La Vie En Rose
by Dmfritsc
Summary: Victoria is the prodigy of master assassin, Tomas Roux, the new leader of the League of Shadows. As they help finish out Talia's plans, Victoria meets John Blake. After the fall of Talia - Bane, Tomas, and Victoria regroup to attack again. She slowly becomes involved in more ways than one on both sides, threatening the safety of the city she's come to love.
1. Chapter 1: Adieu Manon

**Couldn't resist. Had this idea last night and just went with it, please let me know if you'd like for me to continue. :) – D**

**XXXXX**

"_It's your call," he huffs, inches away from my face._

"_Don't make this about me, __**Bane**__," I growl, scowling back into his eyes. They are so blue and so wrapped in emotion. It's amazing how well he conveys himself through them._

"_It's __**all**__ about __**you**__," he breathes, quietly. __**Now**__ it's about me. What happened to what he had said before? Perhaps I was wrong about his abilities to manipulate. I stare back at him for a while, feeling the tension in my forehead release. What am I going to do? I never expected this to happen to me in a thousand years. Between him and Blake? What kind of choice do I have? How does anyone make a decision like this? He wraps his hands up my air and pulls me towards him, running the metal of his mask down my neck. It's cold, but the exhale of his breath is warm. Between the combination of the hot and cold and feeling the breath through it, a shiver cascades down my back in the most enticing way. His strength draws me to him. He is so powerful and stoic when he wants to be. I can __**smell **__him - the mixture of leather and sweat. It's delicious and strong, exactly what you would expect him to smell like. His skin is so rough and hard. He pulls back on my head with my hair as I grasp his shoulders, digging my nails into them. A throat, metallic grunt erupts from his throat. He positions his hips below mine and guides me onto him slowly…_

**XXXXX**

The air has a chill I can feel straight through to my bones, it's unrelenting and fierce. It's a power I can't willingly fight, which makes me hate it more. There's always something to fight and stop, but not this. I pull the leather coat around myself a little tighter and squint against the slow plowing down from the sky. There is no noise, no sound, only the crunching of the snow beneath my leather boots. I can feel my weight compact and shove the snow down, closer to the concrete. Perhaps I am fighting the snow a bit – by crushing it. The leather jacket doesn't help hold off the cold. I don't know who purchased the jacket for me, but they did a terrible job. I'm not too familiar with clothes shopping. Most women my age are all about it, but I am more particular towards knives, swords, and guns.

I wish all things were as simple as walking along the street in a snowstorm. It gives my brain a breather from the mundane thoughts that ramble through it. It's like a herd of elephants in my head sometimes. Every now and then I envy people with easy lives – happy, loving, typical lives without killing, fighting, and orders, but then I remember how simple my life can be. The story of my life – Victoria Roux – the daughter named for victory and pride by the infamous Tomas Roux, mass murderer and leader of the League of Shadows – raised to be an assassin by my father. _Always trained to win_. I can simply destroy anything that stands in my way between me and what I want. Not most people have that chance.

"_This is all for you_," my father would lecture, throwing his hand out of the veranda of our home, to the training grounds. "_You will take my place one day_." My father inherited the title of master shortly after Ra's al Ghul's death. He had started the League with Ra's years ago. My mother was never mentioned – if ever. I heard her name a few times in passing, but nothing more. Not that I sat down to dwell on it often. Feelings like that were merely put on hold. To be an assassin there weren't times for feelings, everything was focused on becoming faster, stronger, and better, because there was always someone out there better than you "_ready to cut you down_."

I could think about things like that when I was dead. Right now, I had better things to think about. We are in the middle of tearing down one of the most corrupt cities in the world – Gotham. "_Continuing Ra's al Ghul's destiny even in his death_." Every person in this place is a villain or one in the making. In the last five months I've lived there to oversee the city, I've encountered nothing but hatred and rudeness. Police sirens fill the streets at all hours from robberies, murders, rapes, and the list just continues on and on. I had never killed anyone that never deserved it. There was no reason to kill anyone for fun. Justice needs to be served to this city and we are here to make damn sure of it.

Scuffling echoes out onto the streets from a nearby alleyway. I push my senses forward, reaching out into the unknown. My hands quickly swipe a black knit cap over my shoulder length brown hair and I tug it down over my ears. My long, muscular legs pad the snow lighter than before, each step more precise and slow. I have a stocky build for a woman, wide shoulders and wide hips with a small waist. Pure muscle from years of training, my father couldn't have a fat assassin on his team. I zip up the pocket on my jacket and listen as the scuffling gets louder. Holding onto the brick wall of the building next to me I take a quick glance down it only to see Bane and his fellow peons. He is supposedly very menacing to other people, but from my eyes – I knew what he was really made of – I knew what it was like to fight him hand against hand, his weaknesses, which happened to be his right shoulder and right ankle, and I knew what was under that mask – which wasn't frightening at all – sometimes.

"Roux?" Bane's voice calls out to me as I walk down the alleyway, crowded with people willing to die for the cause at any moment. He has his dark brown, greasy looking leather coat on, lined with sheep's wool. Whoever picked out his jacket did a much better fucking job with his – can't say I blame them though – they probably saw Bane as much more of a threat than "_little_" Victoria. He has black tactical pants on, much like mine, with black boots and a black utility vest. His hands are resting on his lapels, as usual. I nod in his direction and inspect the scene. He's instructing them to breakout the prisoners in a prison nearby from what I can tell by the guns in their hands and the keys a few of them are wielding.

"What brings you out here?" he asks, raising an eyebrow to me as he waves the peons off. My father has instructed me to keep as low as possible, in case the mission fails. We will all need a place to hide in and I've been given the duty of being that person. If we succeed, I am to continue on with the destruction of Gotham, meet up with Bane or my father and snuff out what is still standing after the bomb goes off. I was never trained to fail, but as my father puts it, "_This is much bigger than anything else we've brought down_." We've managed to wipe out hundreds of people as a team, but never an entire city.

"Making rounds," I answer, glancing down to the barren street behind us. There's no reason for me to hide too much, everyone is afraid to leave their homes, I haven't ran into anyone in weeks. My father ordered me not to fight anyone, so I wouldn't blow my cover, but I was ready to fight anything I could get my hands on.

The League has penetrated every force imaginable – hospitals, companies, police forces, and what not. My father was busy running about, getting in with the small group of officers that was still above ground, while Talia was out seducing Bruce Wayne – the traitor and man who killed her father, and I here I was, roaming the streets, itching for a fight. I am supposed to be pretending to be an innocent citizen, sitting inside, huddled up next to my television, worried out of my mind. I can't sit inside any longer.

"Getting cabin fever, I see," he says with a slight laugh in his voice. I shrug and smile.

"I suppose." I sigh a bit, knowing how true that is. I loved living in India, where we had lived before all of this mess. The chaos grew on me. You couldn't walk two feet without getting into a fight with someone. I loved that. It was warm and the air was muggy and thick. Something about it just met my personality – constantly hot. I was compassionate, not that anything had changed. Masters have once called me a lion, mainly because of my loyalty, courage, and relentlessness. I wouldn't stop at anything until I was sure I was finished.

"Your time will come soon enough," he breathes, putting one of his massive hands on my shoulder. I nod. My time is soon, but I can't help but feel antsy. Part of my problem is that I am extremely impulsive. My father says it's my greatest asset and my greatest weakness. Being an assassin is all about knowing your weaknesses on top of your enemy's and I know that ability to not think things through hurts me in a lot of ways. "Don't push it, because you may not be ready," he warns, raising an eyebrow at me once again. Most others would take his words as condescending, but I know Bane too well, he is not one to condescend. "It will come when the both of you are ready."

I've known Bane for almost ten years, the first time I met him was during his training when Ra's was still alive and in charge. I was fifteen and he was close to twenty. Ra's and my father had their doubts about him for a while. They both claimed he was too old to teach, that he was set in his ways. I guess neither one of them expected him to be a force that neither one of them could contain. Talia would fawn over Bane from sunrise to sunset and I couldn't say I blamed her, but I had my own man during that time, _Aron_. I had never met anyone like him. I came to know him better than I knew myself. My father was convinced that we would marry one day. I was convinced as well.

As much as I try to forget what happened, it still plagues me every now and then. Usually in my dreams, where I cannot stop what I think of. His face haunts me. His dark brown eyes, tanned skin, and blonde hair. The cut of his jaw and the scruff on his chin. He hated being clean shaven and he hated the taste of gooseberries, which grew on trees along the fields of where we trained. We would run and fight against each other among the grasslands, out of reach of the older and wiser assassins who would throw us down in seconds. I may be passionate, but I'm not stupid.

"_There_ you are," chimes a voice from a few feet behind me. Without turning, I already know who it is. I could never forget a fellow member's voice. Talia walks into my view from behind my shoulder, her face cheerful and light as she wraps her arms around Bane's chest. He shifts his direction for a moment and tries to awkwardly hold her without letting anyone see. I fold my arms across my chest and clear my voice as she nuzzles him. I have known Talia since she showed up with Bane. We've had our differences, but we've also maintained a friendship. Being women in a group of men is difficult to say the least. You're always being belittled and treated just as harshly as the other trainees. We scraped our way through training with a lot of blood, sweat, and tears. "I didn't recognize you, Roux, how are you?" she beams in my direction, pulling away from Bane. "I feel like I haven't seen any of you in _days_!" She's wearing a decorated kimono coat, and a low hat that covers her eyes to hide her identity. She's risking her ass by coming down here, that's for damn sure.

"What are you doing down here?" I ask, ignoring her question, swiping my gaze back down to the street, expecting to see a crazy mob chasing after her, but instead, it's just swirls of snow.

"I had a moment before I had to meet Bruce. We are heading to his mansion one last time," she answers, redirecting her attention to Bane. "You're sure Selina is still going to bring him to you tonight?" she asks.

"Yes," he replies with a slight nod. I shiver against another gust of wind and wonder how in the hell his head isn't freezing. Sure, the mask covers some parts of it, but his bare head is still exposed to this terrible weather. "She will _not_ fail me." I blow out a gust of air and look at the silent exchange between the two of them.

"I'll let you two be," I state, turning on my heel.

"Adieu, _manon_," Talia calls out after me in French. I smirk at the gesture. It has literally been months since I have heard anyone talk to me in my native language. I walk back onto the streets, the wind whipping around me with more gusto now that I'm not protected by buildings. My feet carry me back towards the townhouse while I put my feet on autopilot, I keep my brain active, constantly ready for anything that might happen. The city is a dirty mess. The stench of it burns my nostrils. I've smelled better things in a swamp. I think India smelled better than they're considered a third world country. I miss the food, I miss the surroundings. And the heat. I can't say that enough.

"Hey!" calls out a voice. The voice takes me off guard and I stop, spinning on my heel with my hand up above my forehead ready to block anything aiming itself at my head. "Whoa!" breathes the voice again. I squint and see a small framed man standing a few feet away, his hands up to show he's not holding anything. He's wearing a charcoal gray wool trench coat with a dark blue sweater from what I can see peeking out of the top. He has dark brown eyes, that almost match Aron's and it briefly puts my brain on a mental shutdown. I raise an eyebrow at him and lower my hand, inspecting his face for any clue as to what he wants. "Are you okay?" he asks, curiously.

"I'm fine," I answer, shortly, glancing behind the man.

"You look like you're freezing," he adds, gesturing towards my shaking frame.

"My coat isn't as warm as what I thought it was," I tell him, honestly. I have no nothing to hide from this man right now. No reason to lie.

"You should let me get you another." My eyebrows thread together and I stare at him seriously. We're close to the same height, so I don't have to raise or drop my gaze to look at him.

"And you are - ?" I ask, bobbing my head slightly. He smiles widely for a moment, his mouth exposing perfect, straight white teeth and dimples.

"I'm sorry," he laughs, shaking his head. "I'm Blake." He extends his right hand to me. "John Blake." My eyebrow raises a little higher and I place my hand in his and give him a firm shake. He winces for a moment and looks from my hand back up to me. "You got a strong grip."

"Thanks," I mumble, withdrawing my hand. "I'm Victoria Laurent," I answer, lying through my teeth. You never can be sure of who is who in this world. I didn't need this man running off to his computer to look me up. I didn't anyone finding out who I was. Roux wasn't exactly a common name.

"Beautiful name, is that French?" he asks, curiously.

"Yes," I reply through another shiver.

"Well, Victoria, can I get you another coat?" I glance around the streets again, making sure I can't see anyone watching. My father would have my hide if he saw me out like this when I was supposed to be hauled up inside. He should have let me seduce Bruce. I understand Talia's whole 'revenge' and all of that, but impulsive people shouldn't be allowed to sit inside all day long without some distraction.

"Sure." I see no harm in it. It's not like I can just find another coat. All of the peons are off helping the more important cases. Guarding and watching over a townhouse to fend off raiders and looters isn't exactly important, especially when I can take care of it myself. No one in the city was a match for me. Not even four or five men. They've tried, believe me, they have. A few times a week a few men show up and try to break into my townhouse and each of them has successfully had their arms and legs broken. I'm not one to steal from other people, I don't really need a heavier coat anyway, since I hardly leave my damn post. Oh, hell, my father is going to be furious if he discovers I'm gone. I follow behind Blake quietly, making a note of what streets we are walking down.

"So, you're French, huh?" he asks randomly, stopping as I walk up beside him.

"Yes, I am a foreign exchange student. I was attending university – until all of this happened." He scoffs and shakes his head again.

"Man, I feel sorry for you. You must regret it, there's not much of a university here in Gotham." There really wasn't, but I couldn't find any other reason why some French girl would be in this city. What else would drag me here? The tourism? Please, don't make me laugh. I shrug my shoulders and watch the snow as we trudge through it.

"An interesting choice on my part, I know." He laughs and nods.

"I guess ya can't get more exotic than France, though." France is almost as dirty as Gotham in some places. I remember bits and pieces of it, but we were on the run so much, seeing as my father was an assassin and all, so I never really got to experience much.

"Have you been?"

"No, I wish, but, no. _Don't_ exactly make much on my salary," he answers, looking over at me as we walk. I study him closely. No one in this city had shown me any compassion in the time I had been here, I couldn't understand him and I desperately wanted to. He better think he's going to jump me. What if that's his plan? I smirked. I welcome it. I'm no babe in the woods, _mon mignon_.

"And what is it that you do, John?"

"Please, call me Blake –"he insists before continuing. His eyes search the road ahead of us for a moment, his eyes and eyebrows are scrunched up. "What I do is a bit of a secret, it's not really safe for me to tell you." I stare at him carefully, trying to find the weak spot in his armor.

"What are you, some kind of _assassin_?" I ask, jokingly. The irony in my teasing is seriously killing me. I'm gracious for knowing how to steel myself, because all I want to do is break down and laugh.

"_No_," he laughs. My eyes trace his dimples and the softness in his eyes. He shakes his head and raises an eyebrow at me, dropping his face to a serious one. "_Are you_?"

"No," I lie. "Of course not." I'll play babe in the woods as long as I can.

"Good," he chirps, opening a gate behind him, gesturing for me to walk inside.


	2. Chapter 2: Robert Cash

**Thank you so much for following and reviewing. :) It's going to be kind of slow at first, so I apologize for that. It's all about building character and showing you how things are. I appreciate the support, a lot! :) - D**

We walk through a small courtyard like area and enter a building, quietly shuffling inside of it. There is all sorts of commotion going on, children are screaming and playing, running about the hallways, women are crowded together, talking in hushed voices. By the ornate carpets and the paintings, I assume that we are in a hotel. The carpet is a deep maroon color with a gold colored trim and the wallpaper, from closer examination is rippled to add to the ambiance. I follow Blake down the narrow hallway, carefully moving from one side or the other to avoid the running children. He leads me into a large atrium where thousands of supplies have been stacked up, ranging from jugs of water, to clothing, to canned food. "What size are you?" he asks me, glancing back as he sifts through a mound of coats.

"A medium will work," I answer, shifting on my feet as I notice a group of men eyeballing me. One smirks in my direction and I stare back, burrowing my eyes into his. The man eventually looks away and turns to face his group just as Blake pulls up a large padded black coat.

"Here you go," he breathes, handing it over. I thank him and peel off my leather coat. There is a thin layer of sweat on the thin shell of it and my black thermal undershirt that I had thrown on. I wasn't really expecting to take my coat off in front of anyone. "Where are you staying?" he asks, as I hand him the leather coat. He tosses it into the pile behind him.

"At my townhouse." His eyebrows raise up.

"_Alone_?"

"Well, my father –" It was almost as if I had spoken of the devil himself.

"What's going on here?" my father asks, walking up behind me. I can feel his presence coming around my side. "Find yourself a girlfriend, Blake?" my dad questions, staring at me intently. He has the same stocky build, although he is much more muscular, and much taller than I am. He is in his early forties, with no sign of slowing down. His once black hair is peppering in areas and never one to like it long, he has it clipped in a crew cut, and his face is clean shaven, compared to his usual goatee. I sense his anger, even though he isn't letting anything on. He is very good at staying in character. I guess I learn from the best, because I don't even break under his inquisitive eyes, regardless of the situation I'm in. Never in a million years did I think I would run into my father in here. Blake laughs and turns a shade of red.

"No, no, this is Victoria, I found her out on the streets, freezing," Blake replies. "Victoria, this is a good friend of mine – Robert Cash." Good friend, eh? I smile politely.

"Nice to meet you, Victoria – mind if I ask what a _young_ lady like you was doing out wondering the streets?" I narrow my eyes ever so slightly at him. Is he trying to make me mad right now? Of course he is. Scolding me in secret for doing something I shouldn't.

"Don't be fooled, she has a good grip," Blake adds, flexing his hand. My dad's eyebrow raises in the same fashion as mine.

"Is this true?" he asks, holding his hand out to me. I take his in my hand and squeeze with force. He does the same. We make eye contact and I can feel his thoughts in my head already. After a moment he breaks the handshake and smiles. "That _is_ quite a grip you have there."

"Thank you." Blake smiles and nods, pointing at me.

"I _told_ you," he says with a smirk.

"Where are you staying?" he questions, looking at me closely.

"A townhouse not too far from here." He taps his chin and focuses his eyes down the hall.

"It's almost dark."

"And _I_ can take care of myself," I stress. Blake steals a look at his watch.

"It is almost dark."

"It's not far," I insist, turning to walk out the way we came. My father places a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. I turn and he scowls at me for a second.

"You _should _stay."

"I'll be fine."

"It's dangerous," Blake warns. "Looters go out at night. You should stay here. I have a spare bed in my room. Or I'll stay here in the atrium tonight." He was offering so much to someone he barely knew again. I gape at him and shake my head. I need to get home and protect it. I don't have time for this. My dad makes a face at me.

"Stay," he breathes, barely above a growl. Okay, _dad_.

"Alright," I sigh.

"Hungry?" Blake asks, pulling his coat off.

"A tad."

"You two head on into the hall, I have some business to take care of," my dad announces, patting Blake, giving me a look from over his shoulder as he walks away. You know I'm impulsive, father. Don't look at me like that. He strides away and Blake smiles warmly. I'm not used to this treatment from someone outside of the League.

"Come on," he tells me, holding out his arm. I stare at it awkwardly and place my hand in the crook of his elbow. Little does he know I can break it in a two different places. We walk towards the hall, which is set up in the meeting room. It's set up buffet style and the smell of the food makes my stomach churn. I have been living off of canned vegetables and meat for too long. This was actual meat. I take in a large breath and smile. "Been awhile?"

"You have no idea," I answer, walking towards the table with him. We grab plates and I load my plate with steak, asparagus, and rolls. My mouth waters. We sit across from each other at a picnic table and I dig in without saying another word. A woman brings me cups of water left and right and I can't drink them fast enough. "Thank you," I mutter through a mouthful of bread. She smiles and nods at me before walking away. I watch her from over my shoulder for a moment as she helps other kids and a few elderly.

"You alright?" Blake asks as I turn back around, shifting my weight as I take a sip of water. Well, sort of, this is all new to me. I don't really know what to say.

"Yeah." I smile and sit my glass down.

"Sorry if it's not up to standards like French cuisine."

"It's great," I tell him, not lying at all. It's my first real meal in weeks. I dig in again and watch him eat slowly. A man sits down beside us and huffs.

"I'll be so glad when this shit's over with," the man scoffs, biting into a roll. "It's like chaos, everywhere, I haven't slept in fuckin' days an' every time I turn a corner, there's some kind of shit goin' on."

"Join the club," Blake sighs. "I would kill for a decent night of sleep." I look the man over cautiously, he is large, much larger than Blake, with short red hair and green eyes. His face is set with hard lines and deep bags. He definitely looks much older. "Jesus, I forgot to introduce you," he curses, scolding himself. "Victoria, this is Calum." Calum holds a greasy hand out to me and I politely nod in his direction. He looks at his hand then wipes it onto his shirt. How classy. Blake smirks and shoves another bite of food into his mouth.

"Ain't seen you in here before," Calum snorts, chewing on his food loudly.

"I was picked up by Blake today before it got dark. I live nearby in a townhouse," I explain, trying not to watch him in disgust. Polar opposites crowd this room, the grime of this city mixed in with the actual decent human beings I was going to feel guilty about killing.

"Which one?" I fold my arms and push my plate away. Suddenly I'm not so hungry.

"That's really none of _your_ business, is it?" Calum makes a noise like a snort and shakes his head.

"You pick up the _nicest_ ladies, Blake," he quips, his voice dripping with sarcasm. I rear in the anger that's ready to lash out. I could have you on your stomach begging for mercy in seconds, big boy. Do not test me. I can't be impulsive in here, not in front of these people. I shrug off my inner-assassin, screaming at me to drop him to the ground. Not right now. Blake makes a face at him.

"Be nice," he warns, pointing a finger in Calum's direction. He shrugs beside me. We sit silently for a few beats before Blake smiles at me. "Finished?"

"Yes," I answer, strongly, before gulping down the rest of my water.

"I'll show you my room." He holds his arm out for me again and I place my hand in that small space of his elbow. The hallways are much quieter than they were before, children aren't running anymore, they are lazily shuffling to their rooms. We climb into an elevator and stop on the second to top floor. Hm. Wouldn't they put the most important people up higher in the fancier rooms? We step off of the elevator and I realize how true it is, we are in the suite area of the hotel. Blake escorts me down the hallway, and pulls a key card out of his pocket, sliding it through the card reader on the door. We enter the room and he shuts the door behind us quietly. There are two beds, just as he said. There is also an attached living room area with a small mini fridge and a couch. "If it bothers you, I'll leave." I shrug. You're kind of battling against the odds if you try any funny business with me, Blake.

"It's _not_ a big deal," I tell him, throwing my new coat over the foot of the bed. He smiles and nods before rubbing the back of his head. I don't know what he's nervous about, because judging by that, he's nervous as hell. "I appreciate the gesture."

"Don't worry about it," he adds, waving a hand at me.

"It's a big deal to me. Not very many people are friendly around here." He chuckles lightly.

"Calum is just tired and cranky –"

"No, it's not just Calum," I interrupt, walking over towards the window, watching a small group of looters head off, trying to stay in the shadows, trying to be ninjas, and doing a terrible ass job at it.

"Seems like you're not hanging around the right kinds of people." I snort.

"I'm around different people all day long, but you're the first to offer help to me."

"Well, for that, I will apologize. We help out anyone we can here. There's still some good to these people." Maybe in you. Or maybe you're just too naïve. Perhaps both.

"I'd have to see that to believe it."

"I'll guess I'll just have to show you more," he quips with a smirk. I sit down on the bed and watch him as he pulls his boots off.

"What is it you do, Blake?" I ask, curiously, hoping he'll actually answer me this time. He makes a face and looks up at me, his eyebrows raised.

"Can you keep a secret?" I nod without saying a word. He sighs and rubs the back of his neck again. "I'm a police officer," he whispers, rubbing his hands together, he leans on his knees with his elbows and looks up at me. My jaw drops and I curse myself. Great. Just fucking great. No wonder why my dad was so pissed. "If you don't want to stay, I understand." No sense in making my father angrier by disobeying him.

"Why not?" I ask, honestly. "It is dark and it's dangerous out there. Who else could I be safer with than an officer of the law?" He smiles and blushes a bit. Even though it might be me keeping you alive at some point.

"We're not exactly popular right now and Bane wants us dead, so it might actually be the opposite." Guilt runs its course through my body. Here this man was trying to help me and I was fighting for the other side. He is police officer at that. What the hell have I gotten myself into this time?

"I thought you all were underground," I admit. Bane told me every cop was underground and any above ground were being tried in the people's court, ran by Crane.

"There are a few of us still up here." I watch him as he fiddles with the watch around his wrist, he tugs it off and tosses it onto the nightstand between the beds. My brain muddles through a few things to say before deciding. I blurt out the only thing I can think of.

"Why are you trusting me so easily?" He stares at me and shrugs.

"I figure if you were actually dangerous you would have killed me back on the streets, ya know?" Yes, I could have. Had it not been broad daylight, I might have. I'm thankful I didn't though.

"Yeah," I answer, folding the sheets and comforter back.

"Any reason I shouldn't trust you?"

"No." He laughs.

"Not that you would tell me anyway, _right_?"

"Correct," I laugh. He nods and smirks.

"Well, I guess I'll know if I wake up dead tomorrow." He shuts the light off and snuggles into his bed and I do that same, watching him carefully as I roll onto my side.


	3. Chapter 3: Bat 911

**No edits. Been up almost 24 hours on 3 hours of sleep. Ah, the life of a parent. Haha. Thank you so much for the lovely reviews! :) - D**

I lay in bed not even thinking of sleeping. I know my father is furious somewhere, and that thought keeps my eyes wide open. Blake quickly settled into sleep minutes after us lying down. I envy him because of that. I pull the sheet up a little higher, listening to his slow steady breaths on top of the wind whirling by the window. My eyes watch the rise and fall of his chest from under the sheets. His mouth is partially open. I almost forgot what it was like to watch someone sleep. It has been years since I've sat and just watched another person sleep. A small tap comes from the window beside next to my bed. I turn and the sight does not faze me. My father is on the small patio just outside of the window, wearing a grim look on his face, and all of his black tactical gear. His finger points at the sliding door in the next room. My body slithers out of bed. I place the sheet and comforter down gingerly and avoid picking up the coat. It's freezing outside, but the swishing of the fabric will make too much noise. Tiptoeing towards the door, I keep an eye on Blake and on the door. I take one last glance at a motionless Blake and pull the door open just wide enough for me to leave. The wind whips in around me, momentarily freezing me in place. _La vache_, it's cold! I rub my hands up and down my arms as he wastes no time on yelling at me as soon as the door seals shut with a click.

"What in the _fuck_ are you doing?!" he whispers, loudly, throwing his hands up.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me he was a police officer!" I whisper back, just as loud, shoving a finger at him. I think we both have a reason to be furious right now, but in the end I know it's my fault.

"If you blow our cover, I'll kill you myself, _ma petit trognon_."

"Have faith, papa. When have I ever disappointed you?" I snarl, shaking against the cold. It's no longer snowing, but the wind is relentless and it's burning my nose and my eyes. He fumes for a second and put his hands on his hips. "Well?" I ask, raising my eyebrows. My jaw shakes as the cold zeros in on me.

"You haven't," he admits, dropping his head.

"So, _why _are you worried now?"

"Don't get cocky," he warns, taking on the tone he reserves as master. "This is a big mission," he continues, this time in a more fatherly manner.

"I know."

"_Do you_?" he exclaims, shifting forward. "Because if you did, I'm not quite sure why you'd be here right now." I let out a large gust of air and shake my head.

"I'm here right now, because _you_ _ordered_ me to stay," I rumble, glaring at him. He puts a hand on his temple and rubs.

"I wouldn't have had to order you to do that, had you stayed at home," he seethes. I can see by the strain in his throat that he's trying not to yell.

"I just went for a goddamn walk! _Merde!_ I was bored! I sit and watch t.v. all day, eat, and box on my bag in the basement!" I curse, stomping my foot like a child. "You try that for two months and see how flighty you get!" He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"This operation _cannot _fail!"

"No shit," I quip, shifting the weight on my feet. He shakes his head and turns to look out over the patio. He blows out a large gust of air that swirls around him like a mist before being blown away by the wind.

"I've sent Gerard to the townhouse to play your father in case Blake escorts you home tomorrow. He's quite the gentleman, so I wouldn't be shocked if he did." I groan at the name Gerard. He's a cocky, meathead assassin that is a thorn in my side. He's always had some issue with me, tried to say that I don't deserve what position I'm in – that I'm only an assassin because of my father – that type of nonsense. "Under _absolutely no_ circumstances are you to give Blake any reason to look you up or become suspicious of you. Do you understand me?" I give him a piercing look and a slight nod. "Answer me, Victoria." Back into master mode.

"Yes, _sir_," I stress, my words coming out like a hiss.

"Play this whole foreign exchange student alias off as long as you can."

"Yes, sir," I repeat, less snappy.

"Trust me, I wish I could have you on a larger case. I know how you are. But, this is vital right now –" he stops talking and I already know what he wants to say, but won't. My father has a lot of pride and hates losing and hates preparing for it even more. He has a hard time with failure and I know that even thought makes him clench up like he's having an anxiety attack. I pat his shoulder and smile, doing my best to keep my jaw from chattering wildly. Next time, I think I'll risk grabbing the coat.

"It's alright, father," I whisper. He smirks and cups my face.

"I love you, my _little _lion. It's so hard for me to remember you're not a cub anymore." He lips touch my frozen cheek softly.

"I love you, too."

"_Au revoir_," he breathes in my ear, before flitting off of the patio. With shaky hands I glide the door open and sneak in, listening carefully to hear if Blake is awake before stepping inside. After a moment of silence I slither into the room, shutting the door behind me carefully. I take a small peek at Blake, who doesn't seem to have moved. I meet the warmth of my bed again and shift onto my side to stare out of the window. My dad could have found 800 more qualified men to play my pretend father besides of _Gerard_. Hope he knows what he is doing. Blake might be suspicious of a perverted father. It might be even more suspicious if I drop Gerard on his ass in front of Blake, too. Who knows what I'll do if he makes an off-color comment? I'm not the best at controlling myself all of the time. I shrug it off. I'll deal with it when I get to that point tomorrow. I close my eyes briefly, but I know I won't sleep, not with someone else in the room. For a while, I stay like that, just thinking about a variety of things, listening to the odd combination of sounds that I'm not used to.

Blake grunts and sits up. I turn to study him. He looks like he's in distress. His eyebrows are contorted and his hands are balled into fists at his sides. I can see a gleam of sweat on his forehead. He takes in a few deep breaths and sighs, stretching his arms above his head.

"You alright?" I ask, doing my best to sound sleepy. He flinches at my words and I bite back a smile. He's definitely not trained to be prepared for anything.

"Yeah," he answers with a nod. "Bad dream." Blake wipes the sweat off of his brow with his forearm and smirks, but the smirk doesn't reach his eyes.

"Want to talk about it?" I ask after a beat.

"I keep dreaming that I'm in the middle of the city and the bomb goes off. I can hear and see everything – I can watch everything burn in slow motion – " he chokes up for a minute, blinking as he stares at some place in the room.

"It's just a dream," I assure him. He nods, then looks over at me.

"I've had it every night since this all started." I stifle the feeling of guilt. This needs to be done. I might be able to save you, but that's it. My League is more important to me than this piece of shit city. We're out to finish a legacy. I sit up in my bed and fold the covers down at my waist neatly.

"Is that it?" I ask, curiously, tucking a wild strand of light brown hair behind my ear.

"No," he breathes. I frown and debate if I should comfort him. In moments like this, I use my rational thinking, listening to the primal beast that rages inside of me – my assassin. It's the most real part of me. The area I should listen to more often when I'm about to be impulsive. She's wrong sometimes. 'Talking to him is enough,' my assassin scolds, 'you're going to get attached. Stop.' I sigh and watch him as tears roll down his cheeks. I vaguely recall that I've only seen two men cry in my lifetime. And that was only right before they died. I bow my head. Regardless of what my assassin thinks right now, I can't stand the sound, especially because of the only times I've seen it. I'm not going to get attached. I form a mental barrier against my assassin and rise, to collapse on the edge of his bed. Without saying I word I reach over for one of his hands and stroke it gently with my fingers, feeling the roughness of his palms versus the smooth backside of his hand. "I'm sorry," he sniffs, rubbing tears off of his face with his free hand. I shush him quietly.

"It's alright. It's going to be alright." His head shakes back and forth and he cries harder. I blink and glimpse out of the window. I don't usually cry. My father taught me a long time ago that crying made you weak. I try to search the memories I have of what he did when I did cry. What have I seen in movies? That's the only thing I know. I don't know much else about normal lives aside from movies. I shift up to sit beside him on his mattress and pull him against me, his head falling against my shoulder. My impulsiveness is going to kill me one day. He cries into my shoulder. I stroke his hair and hush him in a whisper.

"I am so afraid we're all going to die." Guilt makes an attempt at penetrating the armor over my heart, but fails.

"We're going to be fine," I soothe, knowing damn good and well I'm lying. Usually undercover missions like this with men involve them trying to get sex – not crying and being held. He slowly stops crying, calming himself in my hold, but I don't release him. His breathing reduces from ragged and uneven to steady and slow again. We sit that way for a while, him resting against me while I hold him.

"Jesus, I'm sorry," he mutters, pulling away from me. He sniffs and yanks a few tissues out of the box on the nightstand. I respectfully return to my bed and curl up under the blankets, laying so I can face him.

"Nothing to apologize for," I whisper, smiling. Even with barely any light I can see the puffiness of his face from crying.

"Most women don't usually think too highly of a man they barely know crying in front of them."

"You're alright," I assure him.

"I just feel like as a police officer – that I could be doing more to save these people – that we could pin this down." Blake leans against the headboard of his bed, gazing at the wall.

"This group is pretty strong from what I've seen on the news." And what I know in real life. He scoffs and flicks his eyes to meet mine.

"You have no idea. Each operation, we're always one step behind." More like three or four, Blake. I frown. "I just want it to be over."

"It'll be over soon." He tosses the tissues into a small wastebasket across the room and sits, staring at nothing again.

"We've been tracking the truck that carries the bomb around. We're trying to nail it down, see if it has any kind of path." Oh, shit. I keep my calm. Does my dad know about this? "We plan on hitting it up soon with a tracker."

"Are the men strong enough? – I'm not trying to be rude, but can they do it?" I try to sound hopeful, but inside my gut is in knots. My father must have known about this.

"We are when we have Batman." Oh, right, Batman. Bruce Wayne. _The League traitor_. I unconsciously knot the sheet in my fist. Little does Blake know that his little hero should be well on his way to The Pit by now. The Pit is a horrendous prison from what Talia and Bane have told us about it. It's a large, gaping well with no exit out, except by climbing. Not that you could just climb out, mind you. The walls are dangerous and the rocks to climb up are heavily eroded or nonexistent. It's a hot, violent atmosphere and it's dark. The sun barely hits the walls and cells at the base of the pit. Talia suggested it would be the harshest punishment for betraying us. I have no idea how she's able to seduce him so easily, then again, I know exactly how. We're all trained to be masters of deception, regardless of the situation.

"I forgot about him." He smiles wildly. "I've only seen him once or twice on the news."

"You should have seen him in his prime."

"His prime?" I know exactly what he means. I watched Bruce train with Ra's. I was only ten at the time, but it was still brilliant to watch. My father trained with him a few times, usually right before his practicing with Ra's. They would head out early and spar on the veranda, just before the sun would rise.

"Yes, he was a hero around here. He helped protect us from the evil in the streets. Which is pretty abundant, if you haven't noticed."

"Yes, it is."

"He was so powerful and strong. He was out on the streets every night tacking down groups of men, 15 to 20 of them at once, alone. He rarely comes out now unless it's extremely important." You would be quite surprised to see how many men I can take out by myself, Blake. I can do all of that without goofy ass armor on and I don't need a fancy nickname to do it, either.

"Sounds incredible," I yawn. I didn't mean to let that slip, but I could feel the heaviness in my eyes inch its way down my body. Blake chuckles lightly.

"You should head back to sleep." I nod through another yawn.

"I will."

"Good night, Victoria."

"Night, Blake."

I wake up at 9 in the morning to an alarm buzzing wildly on the nightstand. Blake is in the shower, from the way the water is pouring in the bathroom. The clouds are still a deep gray color, spitting out the occasional puffs of snow. As if we forget it's December in this hell hole. I stretch my limbs and debate how I can let my father know about the truck, because at this point I'm not entirely sure if Bruce is in custody. A beeper on the nightstand chimes and shakes, I stare it and hear Blake's water shut off. I watch the door and pick up the beeper. It reads BAT 911. Bat as in Batman? Hm.

"Hey Blake," I call out, holding the device in my hand. "Your beeper is going off."

"What does it say?"

"It says Bat 911." The door to the bathroom opens quickly. Steam rolls out and Blake rushes to my side, only wearing a white towel around his waist.

"Shit," he mutters, taking the beeper in his hands. "Shit. Shit. _Shit._" He rubs his chin and his eyes scan the room.

"You okay?" I ask, cautiously.

"No," he answers, his hazel eyes meeting mine. Okay. "I have to leave. I really want to walk you home, but I can't. I have to go."

"I understand." He pulls on a white undershirt, a dark blue sweater with a police emblem on the breast of it, and a black leather jacket. I turn around and gaze out of the window to let him dress his lower half. I tug on the black, puffy coat he gave me yesterday.

"Can you meet me for dinner later tonight?" he asks. I feel my face redden. I thought this was over. I thought this would be the last of this. Ugh. 'Told you to stop,' my assassin chides. Whatever.

"When?"

"Around five?"

"Sure, that works," I answer with a roll of my eyes. There is an audible zip noise and I assume it's his jeans. I turn back around and notice he's attaching a holster to his belt loop.

"Is it too far for you to walk here from your place?"

"No." I'm not a little princess, Blake.

"Okay," he adds, smiling. "Ready?" I nod. Blake opens the door and gestures me through. We ride down the elevator silently. Its ungodly quiet compared to yesterday. Men are gathered in the atrium all with this look on their face that I can't quite place. I shrug it off and follow him through the crowd towards the door. I catch my father's eye in the crowd and he winks at me, a small smirk on his lips. They got him. I purse my lips to keep myself from smiling. Blake holds the door open for me and smiles as I walk past. "See you later."

"Yes – see you later," I add, mirroring his smile.


	4. Chapter 4: The Beast

**Yay! Here we are. You know my drill.**

**Thank you soooo much for the feedback. Enjoy! ;) - D**

I'm grateful for my coat on the walk home. It has just the right amount of padding to keep me warm. An armored tank of some sort rolls pass me and I immediately know whose and what it is. It's one of Bruce's military vehicles for his Batman activities. I marvel at its tread, the power that drives it, and the cut of the steel frame. I can barely make out the driver in the window, but he nods at me. I bow my head just slightly to acknowledge the peon and pick up my pace. No one can see me out on the streets now. That's for damn sure. At the door of my townhouse I fiddle with my key ring in my frozen fingers, trying to jam it into the hole. The door whips open and a grinning Gerard fills the doorway. He greets me with a smile and I push past him. Gerard is large, he's at least a foot and a half taller than me, built for power. He has shoulder length black hair and small, beady eyes. I have never seen them close enough to know the exact color, but they always look black.

"I hear you're fraternizing with the enemy," he chides, closing the door. I pull my coat off and stick it on the coat rack in the kitchen.

"Piss off," I curse.

"Now, now, is that _any way_ to talk to _your_ father?" I roll my eyes and start to make breakfast. I'm starving. I sit the carton of eggs down on the counter forcefully. A few crack and ooze out of the container. My assassin is wiggling, jumping, and itching for a fight. He leans his massive frame up against the doorjamb to the entrance of the kitchen from the hallway. "I don't think Master would like to hear the way you're talking to me right now." I grit my teeth and yank a knife out of the holder on the counter. With seconds of feeling the weight of it, I pull back and fling it at the wall next to him, burying the blade of the knife into the wall. He looks from me to the knife slowly and shakes his head. "Yeah, that's _really_ cute," he scoffs. I smirk as he pulls the knife out. It clatters to the counter beside me as he walks closer to my side. "Don't forget who you're dealing with." In reality, I'm dealing with no one.

"I know _exactly_ who I'm dealing with," I quip.

"Just because you're the Master's prodigy doesn't make you special. I'll fight you like I will any other assassin ballsy enough to pull that little stunt."

"I do my fair share of fighting, _Gerard_. Do _not_ be fooled. If you challenge me, the challenge will be accepted, and you will lose." He laughs.

"You're only a girl," he mocks. "You think I'm afraid of _you_?" I crack an egg into the frying pan as he walks behind me. "You're no more than a bitch who thinks she's really something because of her father." I clench my jaw and my hand tightens its grip on the handle of the frying pan.

"I'm only going to warn you one more time."

"Warn me one more time for what?" I swallow a slew of cuss words and gingerly stir the egg yolk in the pan. "_That's what I_ _thought_," he sneers. "Now stop fucking talking and make me some breakfast." Blood boils in my veins. He turns on his heel to leave the room and I can feel the urge climb up my throat like a wild beast. In one swift motion I bring the pan up, egg yolk and all, and smack it across the back of his head. He falls forward, landing face first onto the hardwood floor of the kitchen.

"There's your fucking breakfast, _asshole_," I snip. Gerard yells and jumps up and spins around, reaching out to grab me. He races forward, his shoulder low so he can tackle me. My feet launch me into the air as he sprints head first into the cabinet that was behind me. I perch on the counter just above him and tear a rolling pin off of the rack hanging above the stove. With as much strength as I can muster I hold it high above me and break it across his upper back with a crack. He yells and his arms flail behind him. His head is stuck in the cabinet. I laugh and gracefully jump back up into the air, landing at his backside. With a sickening smirk I look down at my combat boots, draw my right leg behind me, and kick him swiftly in the ass.

"What in the hell is going on?" my father roars from the doorjamb. I place my foot down onto the floor and snap my body into apprentice stance: back straight, chin up, shoulders square. "_Damn it_, Victoria," he curses, pulling Gerard out of the cabinet.

"He started it," I mutter.

"I don't care," he yells, inches from my head.

"I think I have a concussion, Master," Gerard pipes in, rubbing his head.

"Shut your mouth, Gerard! You worthless ass!" I smirk ever so slightly. "The only reason you're here is because Bane told me you were the worst excuse of a henchman he had ever seen. You're an assassin, you fuck. How could you fuck that up?" I can almost taste Gerard's failure.

"I'm sorry, Master."

"Save your apologies. I no longer wish to hear your excuses. You _will_ obey Victoria. I don't care if she tells you to run laps stark naked outside – _you will_ – or you'll answer to _me_."

"Yes, Master."

"Now leave us." Gerard leaves the kitchen rubbing his head as my dad paces. This isn't good. Pacing with my father is never good. I thought he was mad the other night, but he wasn't pacing like this. _Merde_. "Now you," he starts. I peer down at him and notice the smile on his lips. "You're bad," he laughs, shaking his head. I drop my head and smile. He laughs a bit longer, holding a hand over his eyes. I drop out of my stance and look at the destruction of the kitchen. When he notices that I've dropped my hold he snaps out of his laughter, returning to his steely demeanor. "Victoria, _you_ _will_ be the death of me. I swear it." He rubs his temple and starts pacing again.

"Master, may I have permission to speak?" I ask, cautiously, raising an eyebrow. He pauses briefly and nods in my direction. "Do you know about the plan with the police and the armored truck?"

"Yes," he answers with a nod. "We have it under control." Well, I'm relieved to hear that. He waits a moment before continuing. "Bane and a few of the other assassins will be back from The Pit soon."

"Good. How is Talia?"

"Leading the way, as usual. She is having no problems so far. No one suspects a thing. And the cops have captured Selina and are questioning her as we speak." Selina was one of Bane's main infiltrating devices to get to Bruce. She was desperate to find a way out of Gotham with a new life. Bane extended it to her and she ultimately fell for it, not knowing that she was being deceived the entire time.

"Thankfully she doesn't know anything about the League," I add, staring at the glob of half cooked yolk on the floor. I look back up at him and smirk. "Blake asked me to meet him again tonight."

"Well, you know what to do, Victoria." He kicks the egg yolk away from him and stares out of the small window above the sink. "I should be going," he mutters, glancing back at the watch on his wrist. He looks up into my eyes . "_Please_, don't run Gerard ragged."

"Alright," I sigh. His mouth twitches and he nods.

"Good bye, _ma trognon_." He heads towards the door quietly, only making noise as he opens the front door.

After he leaves I go about my day, cleaning up the floor, making a new breakfast, checking weapon inventory in the basement, doing some laundry, boxing on my bag for an hour. When that's done, I head back into the living room and watch the snow drifts glide across the barren street. I long to go outside again as I feel the walls close in around me. The clock in the kitchen chimes three o'clock. _Merde_. I make a short list for Gerard of the ammunition that we need to restock, making my first mission for him to keep him out of my hair. Sighing, I turn on the television, clicking through every channel only to be greeted with news on each one. I roll my eyes as I glance at the headlines, they're all about the hostage situation. I stop on a channel as a frantic snow covered reporter steps into frame, rambling about how Batman's been kidnapped. Boo-hoo. She's standing outside of some drain that I notice immediately. It's the drain we climb through to meet with Bane when we need him or need to give him updates.

"You see that?" Gerard hollers from upstairs.

"Yeah," I call back, flipping through the channels again. He laughs loudly.

"You're going down Gotham," he yells. I wince. Not because of what he said, but because our walls are paper thin.

"Keep it down," I bark. "People next door can hear you."

"Ra's al Ghul _will be_ avenged! His destiny _will be_ finished!"

"Not if you keep yelling like that, you _conasse_." If we had been at home, two or three men would have pummeled him already, taking on the role of big brothers in the house. The last few months have made me realize how much I really miss the rest of the League. My father only brought the ten of us over, leaving the other ten at the training grounds to maintain things there. I miss the camaraderie and the feeling of a full house. Since the missions have us so split up, it's hard to feel like you're a part of something. These people are my family and it's hard for me not to miss them. They are my brothers and my sisters – even Gerard – who I want to pitch through a wall right now. I glance back at the clock. 3:45. I suppose I've wasted enough time.

Around a quarter before five I'm dressed, fluffing my curly hair in the mirror. I'm wearing a light gray sweater over a white t-shirt with jeans, the warmest pair of socks I can find, and my black combat boots. The doorbell rings and I squint my eyes at the clock in my room. Usually if anyone from the League needs something they just come in, but they wait until night.

"Gerard, get the door, please," I ask, pulling another strand of hair into place. When I don't hear him, I growl, stalking out of my room. "Gerard!" I yell. "Get the damn door!"

"I'm on the toilet," he grunts a few yards away. I pad down the steps and huff, opening the door to reveal Calum. Calum? Um, what?

"Hey, Victoria," he greets me, looking just as confused as I am. I raise an eyebrow at him. How in the hell did he know where I live? "You haven't seen a group of guys run by here, have you?"

"No," I answer, honestly, sticking my head out of the door to look around. "_Why?_"

"Blake and I were chasing a few armed thugs. They got away from me. You're the fourth house I've tried. No one's seen them." Oh, great. Great. I steel myself and try to keep my face neutral.

"Armed thugs?" I ask, trying to keep my curiosity even keeled. Most thugs don't wonder out before the sun has set.

"Yeah, it's a few locals. They've been stealing from the orphanage up the road." This city has no shame. "Blake ran off after them and I'm just worried. There were a few of them and, well, just Blake." Looks as if Blake is just as impulsive and fiery as myself, except his loyalty and charm seems to extend to everyone, not just a few small groups of people.

"I was supposed to meet him at five. Do you want me to look for him with you?" I cannot stand the thought that these men may hurt him, especially after stealing from children.

"No, you should probably stay here. He'll be pretty mad at me if he knows I dragged you out here. We'll come back and get you later." He stresses the 'we' part and starts to walk away.

"Okay," I add. He gives me a small wave and heads up to the next townhouse, right next door to me. You dumbass. Blake will be dead by the time you find him with the rate you're going. I clench my jaw and shut the door, trying not to slam it. I pull a black scarf off of the back of the couch and wrap it around my face, covering my mouth, nose, and hair. Walking into the kitchen I yank on a black hoodie off of the coat rack and pull it down over my body. I stretch my neck and shoulders, popping each join imaginable before tucking a sharp six inch blade into the leather holster of my boot and a 9mm into the waistband of my jeans.

Stay here my ass, Calum. I wretch open the back door of the kitchen and sprint off down the alleyway. Someone tell me what I'm doing. It's just Blake. It's one man. A good man. First one I've met out here. My assassin isn't happy, but I know this is the right thing to do. I survey the tracks on the snow. There are hardly any. The snow drifts don't help visibility either. At the orphanage, I study the ground. Four sets of footprints. I smile and run in the tracks, watching for any activity up ahead. My smile turns into a frown when five streets up from the orphanage, I notice a spray of blood on the snow. Four sets of footprints lead away, with a dragging trail next to it. Damn it. I put a little more power into my run and keep my body light on the snow.

Three more streets over, footsteps lead into a door. Not having time to stop, I retrieve my gun and somersault into the snow, tumbling over to the doorjamb. The building is windowless along the back stretch, until the second story. I hold the gun up to my chest with my right hand and feel the door with my left. It's an ordinary steel door, but regardless of my strength, there's no way I can break it down alone. I lay my back flat against the cold brick and inch my way along it to the side. Reaching the alleyway that intersects the one I'm in, I peer my head around it to check for anyone. I smile at the fire escape jutting out above the alley. It looks to be covered in ice, but it's still useable. I tuck the gun into it's place and jump up to pull the ladder down. The ice cracks and the ladder groans and squeaks. I bite my tongue and clamor up the rungs, grasping each one tightly. The steps are slippery so I have to steady myself and slide up to the window so I won't fall. It's heart wrenching. This is why I hate cold weather. This is why I'm moving back to India the second this mission is over. I peer down at the ground and do a quick check of the lighted rooms from the outside. They seem to be open, empty offices. I try to raise one of the windows and it's locked. I don't know what I figured, it wasn't like this city was known to be safe or anything. "Shit," I mutter. There's not logical way to do this. I pull the scarf off my face and wrap it around my hands a few times, grasping it firmly. Here goes nothing. I suck in a large breath of air and slam my fists into the glass.


	5. Chapter 5: Integrity

**Here we go! This is pretty much an action filled chapter. It's kind of short and long at the same time. I like my chapters to be lengthy – so I swear the next ones will be. :) - D**

A few shards of glass slice into my hands, but it's not painful, the walk without gloves has numbed them. I duck down under the windowsill and wait. All hell is about to break loose. I take in a few deep breaths and steady my heart rate. My heart is beating in my ears. I re-check to make sure the safety is off of my gun and just as expected, a man pokes his head out of the shard framed window. I pull him out of the window by his shirt as he yells out for help. With a smirk I toss him over the fire escape and listen to him fall to the ground with a thud. A voice from inside the room orders me to turn around, the man aims his gun at me, his eyes wide with shock.

"Come on, you bitch!" he yells. I duck down again, grasping the gun in both of my hands. Bullets spray out of the window, knocking out some parts of the remaining window and a few chunks of brick. I throw a hand over my head for a slight amount of protection. If only it were dark, I could do my damage a lot quicker than this. The clouds are a light purple, night isn't too far away. The man pauses and I jump up in front of the window, shooting him in the chest and twice in the head. I climb into the window gingerly, trying not to cut my legs up on the jagged pane. Only one door and an air vent graces the room. I eyeball the air vent as footsteps clobber down the hallway. I count the footfalls carefully. One, two, three, four, five. _Merde_, this is going to be fun. I bend at my waist, slightly, hunching forward, holding my ground as I aim the gun at the doorway. The next two men to walk in front of the door instantly receive the same three bullets. The other three men enter and don't start firing, a rookie mistake. These thugs have no idea how to fight. I swing my right fist into one man's throat, hook my elbow around him and use his rifle to shoot the other two men before breaking his neck. Sweat drips down my brow. I wipe at it with my hand, the sweat stings my wounds from the glass. I wince for a second.

"It's coming from here," yells a man from down the hallway. Blood is pooling the white linoleum floor, it's soaked the soles of my boots. I'm not going anywhere without being caught. I glance back up at the air vent. I smirk and pull the vent down, grasping the edge of it firmly I pull myself up and jump into the ventilation system. The air is thick and hot, it makes me sweat even more. A breath slowly eases itself out of my mouth as I pull the door into its original position. Men surge into the room below me, screaming. There's at least five of them again. I sit hunched over for a second, debating which way to take. "I want you all on patrol, _now_," the man growls, shoving two men out onto the fire escape. "Find this prick." I smirk. I believe you're looking for a girl, _monsieur_.

Crawling on my hands and knees through the vent, I peer down into each room I pass, only to find it just as empty as the one I came in. I know you're in here, Blake. Come on… After I make a complete circle in the shaft, I realize he must be on another floor, but there is no way I can climb up and sliding down it will be about as subtle as running through the halls with a machine gun. I'm done playing chicken anyway, it's time to be a ninja. I hit the vent next to me with the palm of my hand, sending it clattering to the floor. I leap down from the vent and pull my gun out, killing the man patrolling the hallway. A woman with a gun sways out of a room and I shoot her as she raises hers. I smirk and wrap the glass laden scarf around my mouth and hair again. Time to put the lights out. I kill three more patrollers before finding the janitor's closet. My hands work quickly to shut the breaker off. The lights shut off with an audible click. I retrieve my knife and slice through the wires sticking out above it. A few voices yell out and I stand still, allowing the quiet darkness to embrace me. It wraps around me in that familiar way, becoming my extension. More voices yell and I feel the rage spreading out inside, the embers reigniting themselves. I shift out into the hallway, holding the knife tightly at my side. I can't tell you enough how much I love this feeling, when I let the darkness lead me away. It's simple and uncomplicated. It speaks and thinks for me.

My feet carry me down the steps as my instinct takes over. I can sense a presence before me, just to the left, as I touchdown on the ground. Reaching out, I grip the person's head in my hand and dig the knife in, blood oozes out of the wound. The smell of copper infects the room. I drop the body down to the floor slowly so I won't cause too much chaos. My eyes adjust to the darkness, finally showing me blobs and shapes. A few bodies are piled up in the middle of the room – maybe six at most. Five men are standing guard while three men are in the corner, fiddling with what I figure to be the breaker. Idiots, haha. I step towards the five guards, crouched down, close to the floor. With a small grunt I bury the knife into the chest of the man before me, ripping it through his heavy chest pad. I twist the knife and allow him to fall to the floor with a loud thud.

"Uh, sir, w-w-we have a situation over here," stutters one of the men.

"What?!" quips a man from the corner.

"I think _he's_ down here-" I smirk and stand behind the man. I place both of my hands on the side of his head and break his neck quickly. He falls to the ground in a heap.

"_Goddamn it!_ Get the fuckin' lights on!" the man screams, cocking his gun. The three men still left standing in the middle can wait for me. I feel for my gun in my waistband, yank it out and fire at the three in the corner, killing them all with one bullet to the head. I throw the gun away and quickly kill off the last three. These men weren't trained for anything, they were all simple Gotham thugs stealing from the less fortunate. The ones who couldn't fight or fend for themselves and I killed them like the fools they were. I have no pity. The people on the floor squirm and moan. I shush them, concentrating on their faces, I squint into the darkness, trying to place Blake. He comes into focus at the front of the group, he's got he's shoulders square and I know he's trying to protect them. I shake my head and smile as I pull the duct tape off of his mouth.

"Thank you," he sputters.

"Don't worry about it." _Mais oui_, Blake. He stiffens as I cut the rope around his wrists.

"You're not here to kill us, are you?" he asks, carefully. I laugh lightly.

"If I wanted to do that, I would have gone for you first," I explain as I help the rest of the captives free themselves of their tape and rope. I help Blake to his feet and smile at him in the darkness. I'm just lucky to have saved the one last hope this city may have at civility after the bomb goes off. As he stares at me, I double check the scarf on my face and raise it up a little higher.

"Who are you?" His eyes are squinted up and I can tell he's trying to figure it out.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," I stress, helping an older woman off of the ground. She thanks me and dusts the dirt off of her long skirt.

"Are you with Batman? One of his allies?"

"No," I answer, probably a little too harshly.

"Well, who are you then?"

"Just a person who likes to fight for integrity, much like someone else." I put a finger in his chest. He smiles and nods.

"I can handle that answer." Yes, yes, we have time for all of this later. There might be more men coming.

"Where are the supplies they took?" I ask, squinting at the walls, trying to find boxes.

"In the closet by the steps."

"How many boxes are there?"

"About five, they're all about two feet wide." I put my focus back on the people behind me. Two are elderly, a man and a woman, one is a teenager, but he's injured, and the other two are able, but scared out of their minds.

"How many can you carry?"

"They're pretty heavy," he explains. "They were filled with canned goods." I nod and rub my chin.

"Let's get you out of here and I'll take the cans back after I take you back to your hotel. I have no idea how many more are in here." A voice hollers out from the top of the steps. One of the younger women who is scared, screams, loudly. I scowl and wrap myself around her, a firm hand over her mouth. "Keep it down," I hiss into her ear, I shake her slightly and tighten my grip. "You got it?" I ask. She nods. I let her go and trample up the steps. I cut into the throats of the two men. "Grab the guns," I order, sheltering myself by the wall as more footsteps come from down the hallway. Flashlights light up the hallway and I smirk. These idiots really have no idea how to fight.

"Here!" Blake calls, tossing one up the steps to me as he runs to join me. I hold the gun my hands and fire the second the men come around the corner. Blake does the same. We fire off the entire clips in the assault rifle. Nothing moves from down the hallway. I sigh, hoping they're finally all dead. He winces and leans against the wall, holding his leg. Well, shit, so much for unscathed.

"Are you alright?" I ask, throwing the rifle away.

"Yes," he breathes out, his eyes twisted up in pain.

"Let me get the others and I'll get you out of here, okay?" He nods and holds his hand down on the wound. I search for something that I know will stop the bleeding. Nothing comes to mind. If I take this scarf off I will jeopardize everything. I run down the steps and stare at the six prisoners. "Anyone have a scarf I can borrow?" I ask.

"Yes," pipes the old woman. She holds a ragged piece of fabric out to me. I take it and thank her at the same.

"Everyone follow me, if you can see - if I not, grab my hand, or someone else's, we're heading for the steps." A hand grabs onto mine and they form a line. I guide them up the stairs to return to Blake, now armed with a flashlight and a new gun. He aims the light at the steps for the elderly. "Can you walk?" I ask as tie the scarf around his wound tightly.

"How do you think I got these?" he asks with a smile. I nod and help him to his feet. We walk the hallway cautiously. I'm prepared for anything and everything to jump out at us.

It doesn't take long to find the doorway that leads out into the alley. Blake can no longer walk by the time we make it there. "Go on without me and bring help back," he orders, waving a hand off as he sits down in the snow. I shake my head vehemently. I was never taught to leave anyone behind - ever. Unless it was absolutely necessary and right now there was no reason to. We are about six blocks from the hotel and I'm not just going to leave him sitting here.

"I'm _not_ leaving you," I grunt, hoisting him up, throwing his arm around my shoulder. "Let's go," I bark, holding onto him tightly. He's heavy. He may be thin, but he's fucking heavy. We struggle through the snow. Blake hands the rifle and flashlight to the old man, who seems to be the most stoic of the group. The snow starts falling again over us, making it that much difficult. My hands are shaking with cold, but I don't let it slow me down.

With one block left to go, he can't even walk with me helping him. "Go," he sighs as he settles into the snow again.

"I _said_ I'm _not_ going to leave you." I want to cuss at him in French. I want to unleash a whole hell of fury on him, but I can't. I struggle a few times to pull him onto my shoulder, but successfully do on the third try. I hold him over my shoulder with both of my hands on his legs, as he slumps over my back. He cries out a few times, but eventually stops. I grunt and sputter out a few breaths as I take a few shaky steps forward. I'm sure I'm going to collapse, but I don't. Each step I steel myself to carry on. It's not that much farther. It's not that far! We make it to the door of the hotel and I bark at someone to open the door. Surely these people don't think I can manage to do it myself, _la vache_!

Calum, my father, and a few other people rush towards us as we stagger in. There is a wave of commotion. A few people cry out and people are screaming for help and medical assistance. I sit Blake down on the carpet as easily as I can. My father makes eye contact with me and raises an eyebrow. I stare at him, shell-shocked for a moment and take a step backwards. As the rush of people assists the captives and the injured, I make a dash out of the door, sprinting and panting for breath as I head back towards the warehouse. My arms and legs are like wet noodles as I stumble into the darkness once again. I find the boxes and hoist one of them. It's almost as heavy as Blake.

On my third trip between the orphanage and the warehouse, I am absolutely worn out. I want to continue, but I know it's pointless. I struggle with the thought of going to ask Gerard for help and decide it's my only option.

I fall into the kitchen of the townhouse like I've been dragged behind a train for the last three hours. Gerard eyeballs me and shakes his head. He rises up from the couch and comes to shut the kitchen door. "Where have you been?" he asks me, locking the door as he peers out of the window like he's expecting someone to be chasing me.

"I need your help," I breathe, pulling the scarf away from my face. He snorts.

"With _what_?"

"Just shut _your_ _fucking _mouth and get dressed!" I mutter a few other insults under my breath and grab the hardwood floor below me, using it as leverage to push myself into a standing position.


	6. Chapter 6: Santa & The Elf

**#1: There will be more Bane **_**later**_**. He was mentioned briefly earlier to show how their relationship is now compared to how it will be. I didn't put him in my list of characters for shits and giggles, he really will be more involved in this story.**

**#2: Thank you guys, as always. :) No edits. Shit's about to hit the fan up in here, either next chapter or the one after. Get ready! :)**

**And we're off… :) – D**

The next morning, I wake up from a stinging in my hands. I flinch and sit forward, hissing as I rub my hands. My father scoots back for a moment, holding up the peroxide and a few bandages. He stares at me for a second before continuing. I lean back against my pillow and make no attempt to stop him. "I think you already know I'm angry," he starts, patting some ointment onto the cuts. Yes, I figured that much. I slept like a rock after I got home last night, I didn't shower, I didn't even take my clothes off. After Gerard dropped off the last box, I stumbled in and crashed. My head throbs and he produces a few Tylenol after he wraps my right hand up in gauze.

"How's Blake?" He raises an eyebrow at me and sets to work again.

"He's fine. The bullet just hit muscle so he'll be able to walk in a few weeks."

"Good."

"Give me your other hand," he orders. I don't argue and place my left hand in his. "You should have cleaned these out last night."

"I know, I was exhausted," I growl as he pours the peroxide over it. He pauses and scowls at me.

"What were you thinking?" he asks in an even tone, which quite frankly, scares me a lot more than the yelling. My father is never calm about this sort of thing. His blue eyes burn into mine and I can feel my insecurities splay themselves out before him.

"Those men stole from innocent children down at the orphanage. Then, when I heard Blake took off after them…" He holds a hand up and points a finger at me. His mouth closes and opens a few times.

"Victoria Roux…" I fold my arms across my chest. "Do not get attached to this boy," he warns.

"I'm _not_ getting attached," I retort. My only wish is to keep him alive to help with whatever survivors may exist after the bomb goes off. Which is… getting attached. He studies me and I can tell he knows I'm bluffing. Something about my expression gives me away, something I can't hide from him no matter how hard I try. Deception with other people is completely different compared to trying to deceive my father – _the master_.

"You're not a very good liar when it comes to me." I dip my head down and sigh. If I was smart, it shouldn't have mattered to me at the time, because his death warrant was already signed, but for some reason I thought he needed to stay around. 'Because you're getting attached,' chimes my assassin.

"I know," I reply, keeping my eyes down.

"Just don't let it happen again," he warns. "Or I _will_ send you home. No questions asked. You understand me?"

"Yes, sir."

"You're little action has that whole hotel brimming with chatter, all talking about how the Batman must have left behind an accomplice and about how they should bring an uprising with _you_ on their side. It wasn't smart of you. At all. If anything, you just made things a lot harder on all of us."

"I understand, _Master_, it won't happen again."

"Good." He finishes his work on my left hand and pats it lightly. "I have a job for you if you're interested."

"What's that?" His eyes flash with some unspoken vengeance.

"You stay put until Blake's well enough to walk here. You may continue on this little fantasy world that you seem to live in with him, but _the minute_ we're in swing for the bomb to detonate – _you're finished_. " I open my mouth, but know there is no point in arguing with him. "Is there a problem with that?" he growls, clenching his jaw. I shake my head and lean back against my bed. "I think I'm already being fair enough to allow you to continue to see him, instead of making up some fabrication that you died at the hand of some looters. Don't push me to that limit, because I'll do it, _Victoria_." I resist the urge to snap something back at him and scowl. "Now get your rest." He leaves quickly without any farewell.

**XXXXX**

Within a few days shy of a month, Blake is well enough to walk. It's the day before Christmas Eve and things are rather solemn around the city. We didn't put up any decorations for Christmas. I was actually looking forward to doing that, I was hoping someone in the city would attempt at putting up decorations, considering I hadn't really seen any living with the League and all. I had never been to any Christmas event in my life and what I knew, stemmed from movies and books that I had seen. No one in the city dared go against Bane's "marital law" though. Not that he needed to know there were people actually breaking it. Gerard and I had been going about our usual business: keeping things stocked, maintaining the townhouse, and annoying the shit out of each other.

"Heard from _lover_ boy?" Gerard quips as I place two plates of canned vegetables and chicken onto the table.

"Fuck you, Gerard," I snarl, sitting down at the table beside him. He chuckles lightly as I stab at the chicken. I clean off the plates after we finish and replace the empty cushion on the couch which has almost completely molded a spot for me to sit. I curl up in a hoodie and pajama pants, immersing myself in a few novels that were stashed away in a bookshelf for one of my fellow assassins, Fontaine. He is the most educated out of all of us, he was second in line to take Talia's place, but my father placed him down on the floor of "People's Court" with Crane. He won't mind if I take the time to read them. The wind whistles by the window outside and I coil up a little tighter, snagging a blanket to drape over my legs. I get five pages in and someone knocks on the door. With a heavy sigh I creak across the floor and open the door. Blake leans up against the doorframe and smiles. I can tell he's winded by the look on his face. "Blake," I breathe with a smile. "Please, come in," I gesture, holding the door open wider for him to pass through. I steel myself to stop from hugging him. Get a grip, reel yourself back in…

"How are you?" he asks, stepping into the small entryway. I lead him to the couch before I answer.

"I'm good," I sigh, closing my book, tossing it onto the sidetable. "Calum has been good on stopping by with updates." Much better than my own father who I hadn't seen since that day he cleaned my wounds for me. And I thought I was supposed to be the hormonal adult female. "I think the more important question is _how are you_?"

"I'm alright. I've been meaning to stop by here for a little over a week, but with the snow and everything –"

"Don't worry about it," I tell him, holding a hand up. I pick a small piece of thread on my pajama pants and flick it off onto the floor. "He told me about some rogue or assassin that was there that night, have you guys found out anything else about that?" He shakes his head and frowns.

"No," he answers, quickly. "The orphanage received all of their boxes, plus a few extra supplies that next morning on their back stoop, but there was nothing else left with it."

"Really? That's quite a mystery." He nods and rubs his chin, looking away at the few random paintings on the walls that my father hung shortly after we moved in. "Do you think the person works with Batman?"

"No, I don't really know of any woman that he would hire to help with something like this. He's more concerned with looking out for others."

"Maybe that's _exactly_ what he wanted you to think." He turns to me and smirks.

"This whole thing is actually why I'm here –" My face drops and I can feel my eyes widen. How do you even know that was me? I was careful, I had a scarf on the entire time. Shit, my dad is going to kill me, _baise-moi_! "–are you okay?"

"Yes," I reply, waving a hand at him. "Thought I saw a spider." He laughs lightly.

"Well, as I was saying, tomorrow is Christmas Eve, and I wanted to ask you if you wanted to come to the orphanage tomorrow with me to celebrate."

"The orphanage?" I ask, confusedly. I have no idea why he wants to go to an orphanage.

"Yeah, it's something I do every year down there, I play Santa for the kids."

"That's sweet." It really is sweet.

"I'm an orphan. The one down the road is the one that I was raised in for a majority of my life," he explains.

"Well, I can see why you took off after those guys now."

"Yeah, that was just stupid," he whispers, shaking his head. Stupid, but brave.

"Might be stupid now, but it just shows you have passion about something." He smiles and nods, staring down at his hands.

"I suppose you're right." I smirk and fold my knees up in my chest.

"So, what happens tomorrow?"

"We have dinner and the kids open their presents – stuff that people have donated or things the workers have bought for them. I donate something each year after they open their presents. This year I'm donating a new television." I nod and stare at him in amazement, he's the light in this dark, horrifying city and I don't think he realizes it. "I was hoping _you_ would be my date." Date? Ugh, no. You could have left that one small detail out, _mon dieu_.

"Sure," I reply with a smile. "Does that mean I'll be Mrs. Claus?" He laughs.

"Why not?" He smiles widely, dimples showing, eyes squinting. It makes me smile even bigger.

"_Well_, what's _this_!?" chirps a voice from the steps. Right now, Gerard? Really – right now? Blake's smile drops and he turns to find the source of the noise. "Is this that man you've been telling me about?" Gerard asks, puffing his chest out. I place a hand over my forehead and watch Gerard stride gallantly into the living room.

"Yes," I hiss as he plops into a leather recliner in front of the couch.

"Gerard Laurent," Gerard grunts, observing Blake closely.

"John Blake," Blake adds with a nod in his direction. "You must be Victoria's father?" he asks, looking from Gerard to me.

"_Oui,_" he answers with an edge to his voice as he looks in my direction. Blake looks away and I give Gerard an ominous expression. He merely smirks and continues on. "She told me you were shot…"

"Yes, sir, I was a few weeks ago. I just stopped by to ask Victoria if she would escort me to a little Christmas party tomorrow," Blake tells him.

"I heard everything," Gerard snips out, his pretend arrogance does nothing but make me want to punch him in the face more often than I usually do. "I'm pretty _nosy_." I roll my eyes. You're also pretty fucking annoying.

"You're more than welcome to join."

"No, I'm not much of a holiday man."

"He's _really_ not," I add, gesturing to the Christmas-less house.

"Well, the offer is on the table." He glances at his watch awkwardly and rises, shakily. "I should be heading back. Don't want them to think I've been off playing pretend Batman again," he laughs, pulling gloves over his hands. I laugh politely and help him to the door. "I'll be by to get you around three, okay?"

"Sounds great," I answer. I grasp the door handle tightly as I hold the door open, helping release some pent up tension from Gerard. He lingers for a moment, then smiles and gives me a nod.

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," I repeat with a smile. I shut the door and point at Gerard furiously.

"He wanted to hug you," Gerard quips. I drop my hand in confusion and stare at him, mouth agape.

"_Excuse me_?" I ask.

"_That thing_ he just did by the door – he wanted to hug you." I stare at him silently for a few minutes. I would have, had you not been hawking over me like a feeble child.

"And I didn't. So, _why_ would I care to know that?"

"Just thought you would want to know," he quips, giving me a pointed look.

"Well, there's _really no_ point in _knowing_, _is there_?" I ask, raising my voice. "He's going to be dead in a month or so and I can't stop it." He's going to die in this madness and if I even attempt to help him, my father is going to have my hide. I should have just stayed home that day. I should have gone for my walk at night. I sigh at myself. I wouldn't be in this position right now. He rises from his chair and shakes his head.

"_Excuse me_ for trying to help out a fellow assassin," he blurts before leaving the room.

**XXXXX**

Blake is at my door right on the dot at three with a duffel bag is over his shoulder. I pulled on a nice, ribbed, red sweater with a cowl neck, a pair of jeggings, and black boots. I didn't have many other shoes aside from combat or steel toe boots anyway. I even managed to straighten my unruly curly hair. "Merry Christmas," he grins.

"_Joyeux No__é__l_," I chime back, without even thinking, I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him into a hug. He stumbles for a moment and wraps his arms around my waist. "I'm glad to see you made it here unscathed," I joke. Blake laughs and pulls back, his hands still resting on my back. I feel a blush creep into my cheeks. "Let me grab my coat." I yank it off of the coat rack and stuff it on, shutting the door as I do. The sun is peeking out from behind large puffy, light gray clouds that are scattered among the sky. It's a beautiful day for winter.

"I managed to find a Mrs. Claus costume," he states as we crunch along the snow towards the orphanage. "But, the only woman that had one – _well_ – let's just say you wouldn't feel comfortable wearing it in front of a bunch of children." His cheeks redden. I smirk and resist the urge to knock into him, knowing it'll probably make him fall. "So, I hope an elf will suffice," he jokes, pulling out a green triangular hat with a bell on it.

"That will work." He smiles and tucks the hat away before slipping his hand into mine. I freeze at the touch, but fall into it after a moment. I steal a glance in his direction and purse my lips to keep myself from smiling. He smirks and squeezes my hand.

The orphanage is maintained very well inside, compared to the outside. The walls and floors are cleaned, Christmas lights are strung about every surface imaginable. A woman ushers us in and holds a finger up to shush the both of us. She is a large woman, but very motherly, her blonde hair pulled into a ponytail on the back of her head. She's wearing a black dress shirt with a Santa pin on the lapel and a long black dress shirt. "The kids are upstairs if you want to get ready," she whispers, guiding us down a hallway, covered in crayon drawings. Blake steps into the small bathroom, pulling me inside as he tugs the door closed. He unzips the bag and hands me a green vest, a green hat and red slippers with curled toes. I've worn worse, haha. All of those undercover missions don't really just let you wear whatever you want, you know?

"I should have brought my blush," I whisper as I pull the vest on. He holds up a pink container and winks.

"Got it," he whispers back. He's completely enthralled in this duty, happily pulling on the red pants with white trim and a large red and white coat. I smile as he pulls the white beard over his face and adjusts the hat on the top of his head. He is much too thin to play Santa, but I love the fact that he's so thoughtful to do it. He pads the blush onto his cheeks heavily, creating two large pinks circles on each one. "Alright," he whispers, motioning for me to come forward. I step up beside him and he pats it on slowly.

"How do I look?" I ask after a moment. His hazel eyes burrow into mine and I feel a blush creep back up again.

"Cute," he breathes with a small laugh. He tugs the beard down and leans in closer. I lean in with him, getting closer. He closes his eyes and I know what is about to happen. My assassin screams at me, beating on the walls of my insides, but I make no attempt to stop. A wild idea flashes in my head, the thought of my father running after me with a sword in his hands. I start to pull away when there is a knock on the door.

"You kids ready? They're restless out here," the woman whispers through the door.

"Yeah," Blake answers, stopping inches from me. He smiles and kisses the top of my forehead before opening the door. The children scream with laughter as we walk out of the bathroom. The woman laughs with glee as their faces light up at the sight of us. They range in ages from toddler to teenager, boys and girls all scattered amongst each other, about 20 of them in total. Blake laughs and pats the heads of each one of them, accepting a few gracious hugs from the younger kids. "How have my boys and girls been?" he asks in a deep voice that almost causes me to double over in laughter. He sits down in the living room like area where a tree is sat up in the corner. It holds my attention for a while. "It seems my elf is a little tired from the flight here, does anyone have anything for her?" A little boy cheers and pulls on my hand, dragging me to a small table with milk and cookies. I laugh and hold one up.

"Maybe you should give one to Santa," I tell him, hanging it over to the boy. He grins and runs it over.

"Thank you, Joey," he sings, taking the cookie out of his hand. I stoop over the tree next to Blake and try to immerse myself in the moment. "Well, let's see, who's first this year?" He taps his chin and searches the scrambling crowd of little ones, all holding their hands up. "You there, Kayla," he calls out, pointing to a small redheaded girl in the back corner, who didn't even bother to raise her hand. "Come on up here." A few children clap while others stare at her in envy. She's wearing a long sleeved red dress, white tights and black dress shoes, she is very shy as she sits on his lap. I regard her closely. I've never had to deal with that feeling in my life. I was never around children my own age. She seems to maintain it well though. "Now, Kayla, have you been a good girl?" he asks, holding the girl in his lap.

"Yes," she answers, barely above a whisper.

"That's what Mrs. Hill told me. I had my elves work extra hard for you, Kayla." She smiles and bows her head as he speaks. "Can you hand me Kayla's presents, Victoria?" Blake asks, shifting to face me. I grin and nod, handing Blake a stack of presents for her. "Now, take these and wait until everyone's received their presents, alright?" She nods and stares wide eyed at the pile in her hands. She stumbles back to the corner, a boy in the front helping her walk to the back. Watching the gesture makes me feel guilt. I tried to hold it off for a long time, I even held off when Blake was crying on my shoulder, but now -

Blake continues on this way until everyone, including the teenagers, has their presents. As they rip them open, he stands, beaming, playing with a few children. I slink back into the hallway with the woman I assume to be Mrs. Hill and watch them carefully. These innocent children play together so happily and they have no idea what's coming. My stomach knots up and I feel like I'm going to vomit. "Ready to get dressed down?" Blake whispers to me.

"Not really," I answer, honestly. It's been nice to escape from reality, to pretend for a second that not all of this is going on and to watch him play with the children… He smiles.

"It's almost time for dinner and we_ really_ need to get them fed."

"Okay," I breathe. He holds his hands up and does a fake, low laugh. It actually causes me to laugh this time.

"I'm sorry, boys and girls, but I must return home before it gets dark, I have to start delivering presents soon," he sings. The younger children cry and hold onto him. "I'll be back next year," he assures them, reaching down to hug each one. Not likely… I frown and bite my lip. _Merde_. "Merry Christmas, you all!" The children all reply with a loud Merry Christmas. We both wave and smile at them and disappear into the closet down the hallway again. "Well?" he asks after Mrs. Hill shuts the door again.

"That was brilliant," I answer, smiling as I pull the hat off. He laughs and waves a hand at me, pulling his beard and hat off. "One of the best Christmases I've had."

"I'm sure you've had better ones."

"No," I tell him, shaking my head as he takes off the pants and the coat. "I'm serious." And I am serious. I've never celebrated a Christmas before in my life. Especially not like that. Not actually being able to see what Christmas is about, especially with children who are so underprivileged.

"Thank you for coming with me."

"I'm glad you asked me." He smiles and wets a paper towel in his hands. He wrings it out and turns towards me, the same glassy look in his eyes. I smile and close my eyes as he wipes the blush off. "Suppose heavy blush on our cheeks might be a little noticeable, huh?" I ask.

"Yeah, it might," he replies with a short laugh. I grin as I feel the rough feel of the paper towel against my skin. He stops for a minute and I feel his hand run itself across my cheek. I open my eyes to meet his. He takes a step even closer, his hands still on my face, I lean in and allow myself to do it. His lips brush against mine softly. I put my hands on his shoulders and pull him a little closer. The hand on my face strokes my jaw softly. I'm overloaded with emotions I know I'm not supposed to be having. He pulls back for a moment and smiles, leaning in to kiss me again. This time it's much deeper and longer, the warmth from him radiates down my back and chest. It's something I haven't felt since the times I spent with Aron. "We should probably head out there," he mutters after a minute.

"Yes," I agree, dipping my head down. He hugs me against him then opens the door. The children are in an even bigger tizzy than before. They are running about the hallways and stairs, yelling and screaming at each other as they play with their toys. Blake grabs onto my hand and squeezes as the children crowd around us, hoisting things in the air for him to see. He laughs. I take a second to laugh as my assassin casually reminds me what I'm doing. I'm so beyond the word fucked right now.


	7. Chapter 7: Christmas

**No edits. Sorry for the delay! I have been super, super, super, super, super fucking busy. Enjoy! – D**

**XXXXX**

The table is overflowing with bright, smiling faces as we sit down. Mrs. Hill is at the head of the table, Blake on the other. I'm put in between two small girls who question me relentlessly. Apparently, Blake has never brought a girl here. Wonderful. Here I am trying to not like him, but I'm kissing him and becoming more and more fascinated with him.

"What's your name?" the girl to my left asks, clutching a small doll in her arms.

"Victoria," I answer with a smile. "What's your name?"

"Amelia," she answers.

"That's a pretty name." Amelia grins at me.

"Thank you," she whispers shyly.

"I'm Isabel," the girl to my right chirps.

"That is also a pretty name."

"I like yours too," Isabel beams, handing me a roll from the bread basket, before she hands it down the line. Blake smiles at me from over the table, sending blush to my cheeks. I look at my plate and smirk.

The entire table is talking, laughing, no one is silent. "Are you Blake's girlfriend?" Isabel asks, picking at the turkey on her plate.

"No," I reply with a shake of my head.

"You should be," adds Amelia. I'm regretting sitting here. Starting to regret even coming in the first place.

"Yeah, you should," agrees Isabel. Well, I'm glad a bunch of six year olds can dictate and advise me on my love life. "Do you like him?" She pushes her plate away and her large brown eyes meet mine. I can't even bring myself to lie.

"Yes," I answer after a minute, immediately regretting the words out of my mouth.

"He likes you too."

"How can you tell?" I ask, leaning forward as if it's some big secret. She leans in and I watch him from over the top of the table. His dimple exposing smile is plastered on his face, his eyes are alight with energy as the kids each show him a toy they have received.

"He keeps smiling at you," she whispers. He looks back in our direction and waves. Isabel and I smile and give him a small wave. She giggles. "I told you." I watch him a while longer then regain my composure as Mrs. Hill announces that Blake has a present for them. They children laugh and clap as he disappears into the hallway and returns carrying a large box wrapped in paper. The kids gasp and rip it open together. The boys cheer loudly at the sight of the television.

"Sorry girls," Blake sighs, patting a couple of them on the shoulder. It's a large 55 inch television. It's more than enough for the kids. Mrs. Hill tears up and shakes her head. He produces a small box before handing it to her. She waves a hand at him.

"You shouldn't have, John," she blubbers, wiping a stray tear from her cheek.

"You were the closest thing to a mother I had," he explains. "You deserve it." He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me against him tightly. She opens the box to reveal a small red heart pin with her name etched into it.

"It's beautiful. Thank you," she chokes, immediately clipping it onto her lapel below her Santa pin.

"We should head back though," Blake states, peering down at his watch. "It'll be dark soon." I steal a glance at the darkening street and nod in agreement. After hugging each of the children twice and telling them Merry Christmas more times than I can count we are on the street, headed back towards the hotel.

"That was a lot of fun," I sigh, slowing my pace to match Blake's.

"I'm glad you had fun." He smiles at me and squeezes my hand. "I'm glad you went." He stops walking and tugs on my hands, stopping me in my tracks. I turn to face him, thinking there is something wrong. "I didn't forget about you, you know." What in the hell is he talking about?

"What?" I ask, scrunching my eyes up.

"I got you something too." Oh, no, please, no. He pulls out a small box, one that resembles Mrs. Hill's. It sits in his hand between us and I shove it back against his chest.

"I can't accept that," I mutter, staring at the box wide eyed.

"Why?"

"I didn't get you anything."

"I didn't expect you to."

"Well – I can't accept it, Blake. I appreciate it though." My hands get shaky and I try to start walking again, but he pulls me back. I bite my tongue and refrain from my instinct to bury his face into the ground.

"My present from you is accepting mine." I roll my eyes.

"That doesn't make sense," I quip, yanking my hand out of his. His mouth sets into a hard line. It becomes serious and motionless.

"Please?" he asks, simply, in the softest voice. I think back to the man I watched cry in his bed, the man I just watched who played so care freely with children, the man who will probably be dead soon… I swallow and snatch the box from his hand. A smile forms on his face, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

"I'll accept this one, but no more," I warn.

"No more," he agrees with a nod. I can't admit I'm excited, but I am. I am desperately excited. I pull the box apart and bite my lower lip as my eyes gaze at the silver chain with a silver pendant shaped like a pistol and one shaped like an Eiffel tower. "I couldn't find anything else to stand for police officer," he explains. I smile and touch the pendants with my fingertips.

"This is beautiful, Blake. Thank you." I've never received anything I didn't need before. Most of my gifts were centered around knives, tactical gear, boots, or other things assassins couldn't do without. Necklaces were never top of the list, obviously.

"You like it?"

"I love it," I answer, clapping the box shut. I throw my arms around him and bury my face in his neck. "Thank you," I whisper. He squeezes his arms around me and kisses my cheek.

"You're welcome." I kiss his cheek and work myself up to his mouth, holding his face with both of my hands. He parts his lips and even in the freezing cold, I am warm. Our tongues push and twirl around each other for a long time. Why couldn't you live somewhere else? This city doesn't deserve you. And I don't each either. I have my ass in between two chairs – avoir le cul entre deux chaises – as my father would say. I'm playing with you like a toy. At the thought, I pull back and sigh. This isn't right.

"We need to go," I tell him, eyeballing the street lights that are beginning to flicker on.

"There's no way we'll make it to your apartment on time with my limp." How long had we been kissing? Offering to carry him or assist him would only give me away. Just like offering to take him home and take matters into my own hands would. Great, I'm spending the night again.

"Is the hotel close?"

"Yes," he answers, stumbling through the snow. I steady him a few times and fail once or twice to cover my tracks.

"Just be careful," I warn, holding his hand tighter.

We make it to the hotel just as the street lights tick on in front of the building. Inside of the hotel, it's quiet and peaceful. No one's in the atrium, no one is running down the hallway.

"They're in church," he explains. "They put together a small program in a conference room." I nod and follow him to the elevator. Lights and decorations are strung up and down the hallway. In his room he's set up a small tree in the corner of the attached living room area. He cranks up the heat on the unit and peels his coat off before collapsing in a heap on his bed.

"That's the most walking I've done in a while," he breathes.

"I can imagine you're exhausted." He sighs and rolls his head to the side to look at me.

"Insanely exhausted," he corrects with a smirk. I take my coat off and sit on the edge of my bed. "What are you doing for New Year's?" he asks through a small yawn. I shrug and pull my boots off.

"Nothing that I can think of."

"Would you like to spend it here? They're throwing a party. Your father can come too, if he'd like."

"I would love to, but my father probably won't."

"Understandable." I hold the box up and raise an eyebrow at him.

"Could you put this on for me?"

"Yes," he answers, a smile growing across his face. He fumbles over my bed and sits behind as I pull my hair out and away from my neck. In one swoop its on and in place. I turn to face him and play with it in my fingers.

"How does it look?" I ask. He places my hair back around my shoulder and smiles.

"Beautiful." I smirk and kiss his quickly.

"Thank you," I mumble. He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and I shyly fiddle with my hands. I kill people for a living and I can't bear to look this man in the eyes. Is it because of what I'm doing? Because I'm using him? Because I'm using him and actually having feelings for him?

"You're welcome – again," he laughs. My cheeks flush and I know if I look up I'll start kissing him. He lays back on the bed and pats the area beside him. I crawl next to him, placing my head on his chest.

"You know I teased you about taking classes here, but I couldn't be happier that you did." His hand rubs my back lightly. I smile and breathe him in, his cologne, fabric softener, and the other smells that make him smell like Blake. "Even if it is at a bad time," he laughs. I laugh lightly, listening to the steady beat of his heart – which will stop beating soon. My hand on his chest becomes rigid. Damn it. I can't do this. I can't, but I want to. I push up and kiss him hard. He leans into me and I run a hand into his hair. Urges run through my body that I haven't felt in years. Can I really let him die? Can I let that happen? Blake grabs me and rolls me onto my back, lightly, his body halfway resting over mine.

"Is this alright?" he whispers, breaking his lips away from mine.

"Yes," I breathe, my mouth desperate to touch his again. I can't let him die. This – no – I have – fuck this. My thoughts stop and become focused on one thing and one thing only: Blake. I tug on the hem of his sweater and slowly drag it up, when it reaches his shoulders he pulls it over his head and tosses it away, settling back into our rhythm with our mouths. He lies down on his side and places a shaky hand on my clothed stomach. The urge inside of me lashes out, causing me to groan. I grab Blake's hand and hastily shove it under my sweater onto my chest. He smirks against my mouth and squeezes my breast, nipping my neck with his teeth. I groan again and he squeezes me even harder. My hands search for the end of my sweater and I rip it off. He kisses his way down my throat, along my collarbone, to my chest. My hips jut upwards. He palms me with one hand over my pants, rubbing me gently. I squirm and put a hand in his hair, pulling up as I grasp a fist of it. He moans and nips my stomach. I shift to put my lips against his again, rolling him onto his back. My legs straddle his hips and I can feel him below me, hard. It only makes the urge worse. With a cupped hand, he holds my face while the other holds the small of my back. I take in a sharp breath at the feeling in my gut as moves his focus to my hips. He grips them tightly and pushes upwards.

"Blake," I whisper, biting my lip.

"Hmm?" he mumbles, sucking on my collarbone. I flick my hair around.

"I can't really take much more of this. It's been a _really_ long time," I confess, a tingle trickling down my spine at his touch.

"It's alright, we can go slower."

"I don't want to go slower," I whisper, unhooking my bra. "I want to go _faster_." He grabs my chest with both of his hands and squeezes. I roll onto my back again. Blake rubs himself against me while his lips suck meticulously on my nipples. Crying out, I dig my nails into his shoulders and buck my hips against his. "_Blake_…" He stops at the sound of my voice, pulls my pants down slowly with my underwear, then removes his own. I don't even get a second to look before he buries himself inside of me. I cry out, wrapping my legs around his waist. He kisses me hard and groans, holding a hand on the place where my jaw and neck meet. My hands skim over every part of him, his chest, his stomach, back, and his ass. I squeeze it with both of my hands and pull him deeper into me, biting his neck. He lets out a hiss, pumping himself in and out even faster. My chest latches itself around his and I push him back against the bed, not allowing him to take himself out of me. I glide my hips against his and moan, burying my face into his chest. My mouth nips and sucks on his chest and shoulders. He pulls my hair. I rock harder and faster, gripping his forearms to pin him against the bed.

"I'm close," I mumble, feeling a release build inside of me. It fills my lower body up with a knotting pleasure. My hips override my brain and instinct takes hold, putting me into a rhythm all in my body's control. I cry out loudly, rocking at a pace that allows the knots to unwind, releasing shivers down every muscle of my body. He buckles and holds my hips down on top of him. Blake grunts and breathes in, holding onto the breath for a moment before releasing in a sigh. I feel him pulsate and release inside of me and smile happily before kissing his cheek. He laughs, kissing my lips lightly. I roll back to the bed to face him, wrapping an arm around him while I place my head back on his chest.

**XXXXX**

The next morning I am awoken by someone at the door. Blake jerks awake and tosses me a pair of shorts and a t-shirt while pulling on boxers. It's just my fucking luck that my dad's at the door. I try to slink out of the bed, but I know I'm already spotted.

"Good morning and Merry Christmas," my dad cheers with an edge in his voice that only I can recognize.

"You too, sir," Blake says back. What a fucking Christmas.

"Breakfast is being served if you and _Miss_ Laurent would like to join us." Blake turns to look at me and smiles.

"We'll be down in a minute." My dad casts a glare in my direction before Blake shuts the door. I yawn and stretch. I'll deal with him later.

"I should probably head home," I yawn again. "My dad is probably worried sick. Last time this happened he was an absolute mess."

"Understandable." I need to start packing my bags and head home to India. Would you care to join? You'll grow to love the League. Or we could run away together… but we'd never be able to stop running. They'd hunt me down and it'll be Bruce Wayne all over again. He kisses my forehead and hugs me against his chest. I fall against him. Why can't I just stay here with you? His hands rub the nape of my neck. I turn into putty again.

"Merry Christmas," I mumble, sleepily.

"Merry Christmas," he laughs. I laugh at the sound of his laughter.

The effort it takes for me to get dressed exerts almost all of my energy. I yank on my sweater and struggle to get my pants on. I guess walking to your death is never an easy thing.

The walk to my apartment is short, almost as if time is trying to hurry me along to get it over with. Blake kisses me sweetly, holding my well-covered body against his. "I'll be by in a few days for New Year's," he tells me with a grin.

"Just make it back without bullet holes," I tease.

"I promise." Blake gives me that wide smile of his and walks off.

The calm exterior of my townhouse eerily resembles the interior when I step in. Gerard whistles as he sees me.

"Is _Master_ here?" I ask, carefully.

"He _was_," Gerard answers, coming down the steps.

"I suppose he is pissed? You know he told me I could continue this charade until the bomb went off," I defend.

"He's fuming – more or less. He stopped by to give you a present last night and when I told him you were out with Blake, well –"

"A present?" I ask, interrupting him. I shrug my coat off. "Thomas Roux does _not_ buy _his daughter_ Christmas present." Gerard shrugs.

"He said it was important." I roll my eyes and stalk up the stairs past him. "Where are you going?"

"To shower! Is that alright with you!?" I bark.

**XXXXX**

In the middle of lunch the next day Gerard and I are interrupted by my father. He bursts into the kitchen in a flurry. He has a sick smirk on his face and I thankful it's not a scowl. "Well –" he quips, looking between Gerard and I. "I have some good news and some bad news." I raise an eyebrow at him. _Donner sa langue au chat_, father, we don't have time for games. I take another bite of food as he smiles at the both of us. He waits a moment, then sits across from us. "Bad news is that the bomb is decaying a lot faster than we planned." I sit my fork down and resist slamming it. "Good news is that we get this mission over a lot faster." Gerard cheers and jumps up. I glower at him and fold my arms over my chest.

"How soon?" I ask.

"In a week," my dad answers without looking at me.

"Within a week?" I gasp, almost choking on my food. Gerard yells again and claps. "I will beat you to death, Gerard," I hiss. "Knock it the fuck off."

"I figured you would be happy," my dad states, folding his arms in the same manner. Oh, I'm fucking thrilled. Let's throw a party! Are you kidding me? My jaw clenches. Fuck you. He smirks. "I told you my condition, Victoria. One more week of play time with Blake."

"Yes, I heard you, _father_," I quip, stopping him from saying anything else. He raises his eyebrows at me.

"Is that anger I hear? Surely it's not anger over _him_." Gerard sits back down and makes the smart decision of not opening his mouth.

"No. _It's not_. It's over the fact that you pretend as if I forget things. I'm an assassin, _not_ a child," I remind him with a glare. "I may be your daughter, but I am also very skilled and lethal. I have a _very_ large capacity for memory, _sir_."

"My apologies," he states, firmly with a nod. "I've stopped by to let you know that your three fellow brothers: Fontaine, Bane, and Talia will be joining us for dinner tonight."

"You're bringing _Bane_ here?" I snort in shock. "That's ridiculous! _L'enfance de l'art_!"

"Victoria! I have had enough of you today! Do _not_ test me _again_!" my father barks.

"Yes, _Master_," I reply, keeping my voice strong.

"They will be here around 8 o'clock tonight. Be prepared. And have the earpieces ready. We're going to need them."

"Is that all, Master?" Gerard asks, ass-kissing.

"Yes." He raises and leaves without a farewell.


	8. Chapter 8: Progeny

**I am so crazy tired, I just typed this up. :) My butt is heading to bed! No edits. Crazy action next chapter. Crazy drama next chapter. More Bane. What you all have been hoping for. – D**

**XXXXX**

At 8 o'clock the door opens as I walk down the stairs, Fontaine steps in first. We make eye contact and he smiles. Fontaine is tall, lanky, with a long pointed face, and shoulder length black hair. His eyes are a bright sparkling gray color that will keep you entranced for hours.

"Hello Roux," he states softly, Talia steps in behind him. Talia smiles in my direction and nods, she tucks a strand of her wavy black hair behind her ear and looks around the room. I know exactly who she is looking for.

"Bane's coming in the back door," I tell her. She nods then carries herself off to the kitchen without another word. "How are you?" I ask, directing my attention to Fontaine. I clap an arm around him in a manly way.

"I'm well," he answers. "How's my favorite sparring partner?" He mocks sending a blow to my side. I laugh and buck away.

"I've been better," I reply through a laugh.

"Haven't we all?" He has a large smile on his face that is infectious. I can't help but smile with him.

"Probably." We head into the kitchen and stand, not really quite sure what to say. It's been a long time for all of us. Talia huddles by the back door, waiting for Bane to answer while Gerard fiddles with some gross concoction of soup that he's been making all afternoon. Bane enters after a beat, sending Talia into a fit of smiles. He seems like he's in a child's play house, between his height and the width of his shoulders. They both hug each other tightly, his arms wrapping themselves around her in a comforting way. He closes his eyes for a second and reopens them to look at her warmly. They exchange a soft whisper of a greeting before Gerard ushers him into a chair. He gracefully pulls his coat off, draping it onto the back of the chair beside him. Talia takes up space in the chair and kisses his cheek just above his mask.

"Food is over here, if any one of you is hungry," Gerard states, sitting at the head of the table. I sit next to Fontaine across from Talia and watch as my father slinks into the room. He holds his arms behind his back and stares at each of us, leaning up against the refrigerator as we stare back at him. I lean my chair to the back slightly and fold my arms.

"It's so good to see all of you again… All of my apprentices under one roof," he starts. "There is a matter of things we need to discuss, but first, I want you to each take an earpiece." He holds up the basket in the middle of the table. Each one of us takes one and places it on the tabletop. "These will need to be on and ready at all times for the next week. We have a secure location that we will all need to meet at one hour before detonation. It is an underground beehive of tunnels that stretch two miles down into the ground. It is already packed full of supplies. We have a submarine and a few suits, because the submarine only fits three. Bane will need to be in the submarine, of course. Fontaine and Talia will be in the submarine with him while the rest of us follow behind in suits. There are pre-programmed rendezvous sites into each. If all goes as planned, do not stop until you make it to India." Talia gives a subtle nod of her head.

"And if we fail?" Gerard asks. The room fills with tension. Bane's eyes become large and angry.

"We _will not_ fail," Bane insists, glowering at Gerard. Glad to see I'm not the only one with an intense hatred for Gerard.

"I'm sure Master didn't have Victoria and I hauled up here for no reason," Gerard bites back. The muscles in Bane's shoulders contract and I'm positive he's going to him, but he doesn't, much to my dismay.

"If there are any injured, gather them up and escort them here. That's your job, Gerard. Fontaine has hidden an ambulance in a garage nearby with EMT uniforms. You will pick us up one by one. If you are captured, you know the procedures. The injured will hide out here until we can gather up a boat for travel, or until we can strike again," my father states.

"What if you perish, Master?" Fontaine questions. That's something I hadn't even thought of. I didn't even know if I really wanted to think about it. As a member of the League you are trained not to mourn. You're trained to celebrate, but I suppose no one in the League besides a few of us have ever really had to deal with family being a fellow assassin.

"That was my next order of business." He steps over to the chair at the other end of the table and sits himself in it. He pulls out a small yellow box from his pocket. I already know it is the medallion of the Shadows. I hold my breath at the sight of it. It is always in the hands of the Master, in combat, at home, while he sleeps, showers, and trains. "I had wished to do this in private, but that was not what fate had planned." Talia's head drops. I assume she's thinking of her father. "This decision was made in accordance with talent, loyalty, strength, and passion. I have spent the last few months studying each of you, sometimes when you didn't even notice I was there." Bane's hands knot together on the table. He leans forward against the table. Talia blushes at the words. "There will be serious consequences to anyone who questions my decision." His blue eyes study us one by one. I hold my position not breaking or blinking as he looks at me. "You're all the bravest and most loyal out of the League. I want you all to know that just because of my decision that I do not look any lesser at any one of you." He opens the box slowly, pulling out a small golden trinket with a jade circle in the center, surrounded by inscriptions. The chain is thin, gold, and barely visible. My father stands up, holding the medallion out for each one of us to see. He steps out from behind the table and walks around it once, letting its beauty dazzle us. "Victoria Roux, I would like you to come and bow before your master." My jaw hits the floor. My breath catches and I swallow hard. No one at the table says a word. I stand up silently and drop to my knees at my father's feet. Why has he done this? Is this to ensure that I'll stay away from Blake? I blink a few times and let the feelings mix themselves together inside of me.

"From this day forward, if I should no longer be able to uphold my duties as Master of the League of Shadows, you will be the newly acclaimed Master." I lower my head even closer to the ground as the other members come out from behind their chairs and bow in a circle around us. He slips the medallion around my neck before bowing in front of me. I rise without a word and bow at my waist before them all. Can I do this? I don't know if I can. We return to our seats and I catch the fire in Bane's eyes. "Fontaine, why don't you enlighten your brothers on the problems we will encounter in the next few days." Fontaine clears his throat and smirks at the attention.

"The bomb will detonate some time on the second. We will have two trucks. One is a decoy to throw off the above ground officers. The second will contain the actual bomb. Orin, our driver, has been ordered and briefed on where he will need to position the truck at. Talia has the detonator. She is going to wait until 1pm to detonate. The bomb is predicted to explode around 3pm by my calculations, but we want to keep a safe distance. It will ensure our safety." The second? That seems so close. It's literally just days away. I have less than a week to convince Blake to leave. I snap out of my thoughts as my father speaks again.

"Does everyone understand?" my father asks. "Regardless of if Talia is able to detonate it or not, it will go off after 3pm."

"We understand," I answer, taking lead of the group, just as a progeny is supposed to.

"I'm warning each of you, the above grounders know the bomb is going off in a week. They _do_ plan to fight. There are plans for them to break out the ones trapped underground. I figured this would happen, which is why we have these fail guards in place. Lucius thinks he has developed a device to block out signals of the detonator. He's not sure if it works, as Talia has informed me. I don't even know how well-organized the escape groups are, _but _you _should_ be ready for a battle," my father adds.

"_Let them fight_," Bane snorts. "I'll destroy them all."

"As I expected." They exchange a look of respect. "Make your brothers proud." He gives us a nod and bows towards us. We bow our heads in unison and when we look back up, he is gone. Wow. I tuck the medallion under my shirt and listen to the faint clank it makes against Blake's necklace. My brains stops and jumps to Blake, immediately.

"Congratulations," Gerard quips from beside me.

"Thank you," I reply, shocked by his maturity at the situation.

"Yes, congratulations, Victoria," Talia adds with a small smile.

"I knew it'd be you," Fontaine beams, shaking me. I laugh and shrug him off.

"How _quaint_ he chose his _own _daughter," Bane says, training his eyes on me.

"I more than deserve this, Bane," I insist. "I have fought my own share of battles."

"And slept with your fair share of enemies." I glower at him.

"Pardon me?"

"I was quite clear in my statement." Talia stares at the table. She's not even going to speak against him when she knows her father probably would have done the same. Something about that angers me. We might not have been best friends at home, but we were close enough to stick up for each other. My impulsiveness lashes out.

"Your girlfriend has also slept with a fair share of enemies, might I add." Gerard whistles and taps the table.

"I'm going to go check on the weather for the next week," Gerard chirps, leaving the room.

"Do not redirect onto other members. You should own up to your mistakes," Bane hisses.

"Judgment coming from a man who fell in love with a _12 year old_." He stands and his chair clatters to the floor. His muscles are contracting like mad. "I was ordered to do whatever was necessary to keep Blake from becoming suspicious of me. Talia slept with Bruce Wayne, the goddamn traitor. So give me grief, Bane. I don't really give a shit. There were more ways into his business than his bed."

"You slept with him?" he asks, his voice coming out in a roar. He turns to face her and she stares at me, wide eyed with shock. Serves you right. I feel bad for what I've done for a brief second, but then I remember that I have better things to worry about – Blake.

"Bane – I – " Talia chokes. He rips his coat back over his shoulders.

"I _cannot_ fucking believe you," he snips. She places her hands on his shoulders, but he moves away. "What happened to our commitment to each other?"

"I did what was _necessary_," she tells him, straightening her back as Fontaine and I gawk at them. "He wasn't willing to do much. He was vulnerable and broken."

"So you _fucked_ him to health?"

"Bane, you know I love you," she coos. "That was part of my job. _You're my life_. You know how this lifestyle is. You're the one my heart belongs to – _not_ Bruce." Her explanation seems to be enough for him. Undercover missions are very complicated and very in the moment. All things that happen always seem to effect someone, I know this from past and present experience.

"We will talk more about this later," he states, not looking at anything in particular as he speaks to her.

"Yes, of course," she agrees, looking in our direction. Bane gives us a low bow of his head and leaves, Talia barreling behind him after scowling at me.

**XXXXX**

I take to the streets shortly after midnight, unable to sleep, my mind a tangled web of problems. Am I supposed to defy my father and my new title as progeny to save Blake or am I to let him die, honoring everything my life has been, allowing a great person to pay for a city's mistakes? I huff, shaking tightness from my chest. I put a hand into my shirt and feel the necklaces as they bang together. If I save him, he'll have to find out who I am for him to be with me, and I'm pretty sure my being a member of the League of Shadows won't exactly go over too well, especially when he realizes we were the ones who had this plan for Gotham. Why couldn't I have just stayed out of this? Why did I have to meet him? My life was so uncomplicated before I met Blake. All before I took that stupid walk. Damn it. Blake and I will never work out. Our lives will never be what he wants them to be… what I want them to be. There is no good way out of this situation. I sit in the shadows of a building, staring at the hotel. I can at least try to please both sides, though. I can try to save him. Try to get him out before something happens. That – I can do.

**XXXXX**

I don't see Blake until New Year's Eve. I don't complain that its days before the inevitable. At noon, Blake knocks on my door. I greet him with a kiss and a large hug. He holds onto my tightly.

"Miss me?" he asks.

"Yes," I reply. I feel disdain when I know I'm not lying.

"I've missed you too." I smiled into his coat. "Are you ready?"

"Yes." I pulled on jeans, a hemp sweater and my usual boots. I opted for warmth instead of fashion today. A light gray sweater was popping out from under his jacket, a nice change from his usual dark blue.

"I tried to visit sooner, but we've been busy."

"I understand," I tell him, walking along the street.

"We've found a way to stop the bomb."

"That's great," I exclaim, smiling in his direction. A frown fights for the spotlight.

"Yeah, we're all set."

"I'm glad, that's wonderful news." He smirks at me and squeezes my hand.

"I need to tell you something."

"Okay," I breathe, preparing myself for the worst.

"The bomb is set to go off in two days."

"What?" I ask, playing off shock the best I can.

"Yeah, that's what we said." I stop walking and turn to face him. "I'm telling you, because I want you and your father at the hotel. I want you to be safe." The concern in his eyes makes the guilt in my stomach spread like wildfire.

"What about you?"

"I have a job to do," he answers, his face grim.

"No, you don't."

"I am a police officer, Victoria. It's my job."

"These men are maniacs, Blake. What do you plan on doing?" Looks like I'm going to be saving your ass a lot. I shake my head.

"I'm busting out the men from underground, then I'm heading in to fight." He stares at the ground as he talks, leaving me plenty of room to glower at him. Peons line that entire area of the collapse. He'll never make it by them. Who cares? Why do I care so much? Oh my god, I just don't want to care! I swallow a low growl in my throat.

"I should stay at home, my father won't leave."

"Come with me to the hotel," he whispers, taking my face in his hands. "Please?" Oh no, no you will not use that on me.

"I can't, Blake." I hold his hands with mine. "I can't."

"I will find you the minute it's over. I swear to you." I smile and touch the part of his face that masks his dimples, trying to remember what they look like.

"I know," I whisper. I kiss his cheeks and hug him.

**XXXXX**

I have never been to a New Year's Eve party and I hope I never have to attend one again. Everyone is screaming, drinking, and all I want it to do is stop. My father lurks in the corners of the room, watching me as I drink my senses loose. I maintain my composure, making sure not to stumble or make too much of a mess out of myself. Live broadcasts of the ball dropping are being played on every device imaginable. Blake explains to me on a few different occasions as to what it means, but I give up on trying to understand American culture after an hour or so. As it nears midnight, a drunken Blake drags me to a quiet corner in the conference room.

"I just wanted to tell you that I'm looking forward to spending as much time as I can with you next year," he slurs with a grin. I smile and rub a hand down his cheek.

"Me too," I reply with a blush. He smirks and leans in to kiss me, holding me in place for a long time, well before and after "the ball drops."

People continue on with the escapades of their night, but we retreat to his room. I'm thankful, because I'm tired and I can barely hold my eyes open. The alcohol has made me extremely tired.

In his bed we both lay, holding each other, not saying a word. He kisses my forehead and brushes as a strand of hair out of my face. I snuggle his naked chest and smile.

**XXXXX**

We don't wake up until noon. He's drowsy and sleepy and I'm just sore. I stretch out and do a few short exercises while he searches for Tylenol. After twenty minutes I start to feel a lot better.

"I need to shake this off," he chokes, setting a glass of water down. "I have to set the bomb off at the rubble at one in the morning." Shit. My breath catches and the happiness of yesterday floods away.

"Yes, you better start to feel better," I agree, helping him sit down.

"I really wish you'd stay here," he sighs.

"I'll be fine," I insist. "We've got plenty of protection." He gives me half of a smile. It's you that needs protecting, _mon cher_.

**XXXXX**

Saying good bye to him after lunch was one of the hardest things I had to do since the night my father dragged me out to burn Aron's dead body. My father firmly believed in burning bodies to release their souls. Even though Aron had been dead for almost two days, my body would not let me put the torch on his corpse.

He holds me against him for a long time, gently stroking my hair. I bury my face in his neck and will myself to disappear. His lips graze my forehead.

"I'll see you soon," he mutters, squeezing me.

"Promise?" I ask, staring out at the city from over his shoulder.

"Yes." He kisses my cheek. "I promise."

**XXXXX**

I can't keep my hands busy enough at home. I've taken inventory twice. All of the laundry is done. I have my earpiece in and I've memorized the map locations for all events that take place tomorrow. My eyes drift to the location of the drain that Blake will be stationed at. Snatching the map off of the wall, I crumble it up. My right knee bounces up and down wildly. I run a hand through my hair, pushing it away from my face. Blake will be alright. With a loud sigh I unfold the map and smooth it out on my lap. There's a station of five men there. He won't – my assassin glowers at me. He's a police officer, he's been trained. He'll be fine - but its five men with guns who have been trained to kill anyone who so much as looks at that drain. There's no harm in watching after him and only intervening if necessary. Maybe my dad called them off. He's been itching for a fight just as much as I have, like father like daughter. Knots twist in my stomach relentlessly. I touch the pendants around my neck and sigh. No one will know.

I shower, slick my wet hair into a ponytail and dress in my combat clothes, black combat boots, black tactical pants, a black turtleneck and I pull on a black leather jacket from out of Fontaine's closet. I stuff a gun into my holster on my thigh and one in my waistband. My knife fills the holster in my boot and my hands are covered in a pair of brass knuckles on each hand, covered in black gloves. I head out to the drain with my black scarf positioned over my face.

The streets are silent. I can't even hear the Tumblers. Darting in and out of the shadows, I watch for Blake, my stomach churning as I near his destination. I perch up in an overhang above the rubble, concealing myself against the darkness. There is a small ditch before the drain, it slops down to the frozen river, flanked to the right and left by high sloped walls. Peons walk the area above the walls, ducking into a small makeshift hut with a fire every so often. I keep my eyes trained on the drain. Blake will have to run or jump down the seven foot wall of the drain to make it to the entrance. The injury to his leg makes me shift uncomfortably. I could go down and distract the peons, but then they will expect me to fight Blake or the police that leave the tunnel. I let out a slow steady breath.

The men make a small patrol and duck back into the hut. Something moves up the way to my right. I eyeball it and recognize the shape immediately – Blake. A gun in one hand and a bomb in the other. He skids down the wall silently. He's wearing his usual attire with a bit of a heavier coat. Blake crouches down, running towards me. He throws the bomb and it lands in the center of the rubble. He runs backwards behind a large rock about twenty feet away from the base of the rubble. I shake my head. The bomb he has won't do anything. I maintain my position and peer down at the small bomb. It makes a small ding noise and barely packs enough power to send a few gravel sized rocks around. Blake checks his fun and hunches down. The men emerge from the hut, yelling and carrying on. One slides down the wall feet from behind him, yelling, aiming his gun at him. Blake's gun clatters to the ground. His hands rise up slowly.

"Get out there," barks the man, ushering him to the middle of the drain. He faces him towards me, the men walk up laughing, throwing taunts at him.

"What're you doin' out here?" asks one of them. Blake stares ahead, cleaning his jaw.

"He asked you a question." A man's leg raises and kicks him in the stomach. I crumple at the sight and pull the gun out of my waistband.

"We suggest you talk." One of the men cocks his shotgun. I've had enough. I jump down to the ground from my perch just as the men turn around to see what the noise was. I shoot each of them square in the face without hesitation. Blake looks up at me as I rise up. His brown eyes study me closely. I know he can't see me, but it makes me uncomfortable.

"It's you," he breathes.

"What kind of firecracker was that?" I ask. "It was pathetic." He shrugs with a smirk. I help pull him up and he hisses at the pull in his stomach.

"I just do what I'm asked."

"Well, allow me to ask you to leave." He grunts and shakes his head. "I'm asking you. Walk across the ice and head to safety."

"I won't leave this city here to die."

"It's not your duty to save an entire city."

"I swore an oath to protect these people!"

"Obviously you didn't protect it very well," I snip.

"If it dies, I go with it."

"I'm begging you - gather as many as you can and leave, Blake." Mentioning his name quirks his head to the side. "That device Lucius has won't work. The bomb's still going to go off. Get as many people as you can and flee."

"How do you know –" I want to growl and shake him senseless, but I don't.

"That's not important," I interrupt. "_Leave._" A flame erupts on the bridge just south of us. It takes us both off guard. We turn to look and I feel myself sink down. It's a Bat symbol. Holy shit. This is not good. "I have to go – " I mutter. "You should too." I flit off, running as quickly as I can for the townhouse. I have to warn everyone – Bruce is back.

I press and hold my earpiece down before speaking.

"Everyone – Bruce has returned," I state breathlessly. The line gets busy as everyone tries to talk at once.

"Silence," my father yells, breaking up the commotion. "Everyone will regroup and meet at the townhouse. Now." I sprint back, charging into the front door like a bull. Upstairs I shimmy out of my hand wraps, and jacket, throwing all of my weapons onto my bed. The door downstairs opens and closes multiple times. I make it down just to watch Bane stroll in with Talia.

"This is impossible," barks Bane. "This is some kind of copycat."

"Really? What makes you so sure? He was a member of this League, Bane."

"Do_ not_ cross me right now, _Victoria_," he warns.

"Bane, I will speak as _freely _as I wish as progeny." I step up to him and glower right back into his eyes.

"You're both getting us nowhere," my father quips, pacing the floor. We exchange a heated glare and sit on the couch before him with Fontaine and Gerard. Talia sits in the recliner across from us. "He's going to go for Talia." He turns to face her. Bane's anger pours out in a heat that fills the room.

"What should I do?" asks Talia.

"Stick with Bane." She gives Bane a smile and the heat seems to subside for a moment. "He'll probably lead the police towards the town hall where Bane is." He taps his chin and looks down at us. "I was not expecting this at all. Gordon and a few others are going to attack the truck with a detonation blocker, but I've given them the coordinates to the wrong truck." I vaguely pray Blake isn't going on that mission. I hope he's trying to escape. "I'll guard the real truck and leave the fighting to the rest of you. I know what paths and routes the blocker team is taking. You all will fight with Bane."

"Including me?" asks Gerard.

"No," my father answers. "You'll still be the EMT."

"I cannot wait to destroy this city," Bane adds in a growl.

"Same rules apply. We're out by noon." We each give a short, curt nod. "Let's get into our positions now. We can sleep later. Gear up and head to your stations."


	9. Chapter 9: Battle

**Buckle up, love. It's about to crazy. Or should I quote Bronson? I think I'll quote Bronson instead. Hold onto your feelings. How about that? That sounds better. I guess. Haha. I'll just shut up now… - D**

Outside of Town Hall, the marble steps are covered in a thin sheet of snow. Fontaine stands beside me at the bottom of the steps. We're wearing black gear with shoulder pads, a black chest plate, a shinobi around our heads, two swords concealed on our backs. My mind is in a daze, not really concentrating on anything. I watch the snow fly and drift around the sidewalk, the way it carries itself so easily through the air. The sun is starting to rise and the sky is turning brighter. I place a hand over my chest plate where the three trinkets are pressing into my skin. I want to leave and make sure Blake is alright, but as I look from Fontaine to the Tumblers in the street, I know I can't. I shift on my feet and let the air blow through me. I knew I was going to have to do this at some point. I have to let him go. We can't be together. There is too much against us. I can only fight demons off for so long. I'm not strong enough to take on an entire army by myself. I bow my head at the thought and look up into the sky, trying to shake the feeling that's trying to swallow me up. Fontaine heads inside to gather some food, leaving me alone.

Bane shuffles past me, out into the middle of the street. He tilts his head back and holds his arms to his sides. He inhales deeply. The sound is inhuman, masked by an electronic sounding noise. It pulls me out of my inner prison that I've subjected myself to.

"It's a great day for killing," he cheers. I stand quietly and regard him. There will be no room for tiffs in the brotherhood today. "Are _you_ prepared?" he asks, his eyes burrowing into me like knives. I furrow my brow.

"Yes," I answer in a short, clipped tone. Knowing that he is subtly trying to manipulate me into wanting to leave makes me take back any sort of thought I had at a truce, even if it was just for a day.

"There will be no room left or distraction today."

"There isn't any." I saved Blake twice. And our relationship will never work. It's time I started to realize that, no matter how hard it is. I couldn't live the rest of my life in a lie and it's not fair to Blake. He squints his eyes at me. I raise an eyebrow and fold my arms, slightly cocking my right hip to the side. I'm here, aren't I? I'm here to fight for the League, my family, and what's right. I didn't run off with Blake, as much as I thought about it. I'm standing – right here.

"Guess we'll see in a few hours," he states.

"I suppose we will," I quip back. He nods once and keeps his eyes on me as he starts to walk up the stairs. I watch him the entire way.

**XXXXX**

Around nine o'clock in the morning Bane's militia is gathering the streets. They are all armed with guns. Fontaine and I stick out like sore thumbs among them in our gear. Bane stands on an abandoned car in the street, facing the Town Hall. We stand there, not really sure of where to look or what to do. I snake through the peons and stand just behind the Tumblers facing to the South, ready for anything and everything to come down the street. I'm tired of waiting, tired of standing around.

"Here they come," Bane announces with a tone in his voice that sounds remotely close to excitement. I pull my swords out from my back, grasping one in each hand. Fontaine steps beside me and does the same. I steal a glance at him. We give a respectful nod to each other.

"Disperse or be fired upon," announces a voice from down the street. I smirk and watch the police swarm the street. They think we will give up that easily?

"Open fire," orders Bane. The Tumblers shoot into the crowd, sending men, rubble, and fire into the air. I retreat back into the crowd with Fontaine to get a better view at the sight when a large explosion threatens to knock me to the ground. My feet instinctively counter the shaking and I remain on my feet. I turn slowly to see a large black armored flying contraption. Without even questioning, I know its Bruce. Gunshots ricochet and echo around me. Yelling and screaming, cops run into our group, sending punches and kicks to anyone around them. A few punches near my head and I counter each one, slicing my sword through their necks and chests with two sharp cuts. Bane jumps off of the car, pulling his coat off. I slam a man's head into the ground and stare into the chaos, seeing a black batsuit among the bodies. I shove everything in my path out of the way, following Bane towards the "Batman." Bane's eyes land on me. "Stay back. He is _mine_," he warns, holding a gloved hand up in my direction. With a respectful nod, I back away and return to my job at fending off whatever I can.

They fight their way up the stairs, Bane blocking blows, but succumbing to a few powerful ones to the chest. He doesn't falter. Bane smashes backwards through the door into the Hall, Bruce on top of him. I sprint up the stairs, keeping an eye on Fontaine's location as I dart inside. Bruce pounds Bane's head into the marble floor repeatedly. The thud is loud and sickening with a clash of metal. I eyeball the militia standing with Talia and she looks at me nervously. I move in to help Bane and he snarls. I start to place a hand on Bruce's back, but stop.

"I _told _you to stay back," Bane growls. He raises a fist to Bruce's head that sends him flailing backwards at my feet. I step away, leaving the fight to Bane. Bruce runs towards Bane again and swipes a hand across Bane's mask and there is a popping noise as the tubes rip apart. A noise escapes from Bane that I've never heard before. I start to help again and remember what he asked. I don't want to fight Bane today. Bruce holds his hand down on his throat, searching the vest on Bane's chest.

"Give me the trigger!" he barks in Bane's face.

"He doesn't have it," I snap, nervously watching Bane's eyes change. Talia covers her mouth with her hand. She meets my eyes and makes a small gesture. Tired of waiting around, I lift my foot and slam it into Bruce's side, sending him across the floor. Bane gives me an angry glance, but quickly leaves my face to stare at Bruce.

"I _broke_ you. _How_ have you come back?" he asks, breathlessly.

"You thought you were the only one who could learn the strength to escape?" Bruce questions, panting, his hand on his side.

"I never escaped – Ra's al Ghul rescued me. That is why I must fulfill his plan. That is why I must avenge his murder." It's our job. He was our father. He was our master. Our leader and you killed him. Talia steps out from behind the militia, a sick smirk on her face. She pulls a knife out of her pocket and drops to Bruce's side.

"The child of Ra's al Ghul made the climb – " Bruce starts, staring between Bane and I.

"But he is _not_ the child of Ra's al Ghul," Talia quips. She shoves the knife into Bruce's side and twists herself in front of him. "_I am_." I bend down and help Bane with his mask, shoving the piping into the right places as Talia keeps talking. Bane keeps his eyes on the both of them, not looking in my direction once. "My mother named me Talia before she was killed. The way I would've been killed if not for my protector – _Bane_." I hold my hands out to help him rise, but step away when he doesn't acknowledge me. "I climbed out of the put and found my father. I brought him back to exact a terrible vengeance, but by that time, the prisoners and the doctor had done their work to my friend – my protector –" She turns to face him and stares at him, lovingly. "The League took us in and trained us." Bruce looks to me and I glower at him. "But my father could not accept Bane. He only saw a monster who could never be tamed. Whose very existence was a reminder of the hell he'd left his wife to die in. Bane's only crime was that he loved me, I could not truly forgive my father until you murdered him. He excommunicated Bane from the League of Shadows until the coming of Thomas Roux. " She raises and throws the knife away. She places a hand on Bane's mask in her usual loving way, locking eyes with him. He places a large hand on her face and closes his eyes. She gestures towards me and drags me forward.

"He was trying to kill millions of innocent people," Bruce chokes out a growl, looking between the three of us.

"_Innocent_ is a strong word to throw around Gotham, Bruce," I add. "I have seen nothing worth saving in this godforsaken city." Except for Blake. "We honor our late Master by finishing his work." Talia smiles wildly.

"Vengeance against the man who killed him is simply a reward for my patience. You see, it's the slow knife, the knife that takes its time, the knife that waits years _without _forgetting, then slips quietly between bones… that's the knife that cuts _deepest_," Talia breathes, pulling the detonator out of her pocket.

"I need some help!" my father yells, cutting into my head from the earpiece. My face drops. Fontaine yells from outside. "They've got a blocker on the truck! Bruce must have told them!" Taila yells out in frustration.

"We _will _end this city, no matter how hard you try, Bruce," she growls. Bane pulls a shotgun out of the arms of a peon next to him and aims it at Bruce's chest. "Not yet. I want him to feel the heat. Feel the fire of the twelve million souls you failed." I swallow hard at the thought, thinking of Blake. Talia touches Bane's mask. They stare at each other for a moment and she runs out of the door with a group of militia behind her. I follow, only to help Fontaine. He's on the ground, being kicked in the side relentlessly. I tackle the man and break his neck. The Tumblers take off down the street. The swarm of cops is slowly outnumbering us. With a grunt I pull Fontaine to his feet and retrieve a knife from my boot. Fontaine does the same. We stand back to back and fight, killing anything that dares to come near us. A large, black motorcycle rips up the steps, heading into the Hall. I watch it for a second and shrug it off. Bane is a big boy, he can take care of himself. A man wraps his arm around my neck. I yank my arms up around his back and flip him over, onto the concrete. An explosion shakes the ground. My eyes dart up to the smoke pouring out from the door and the shattered windows of the hall. Bane.

"Fontaine!" I scream, pointing towards the Hall. I yank a discarded gun up from the ground and shoot at anything and everything. Fontaine follows my lead. The motorcycle leaves the Hall, two bodies on it. Rage fills me. He's gotten away.

"What the _fuck_ is going on!?" yells Fontaine. I shoot at the motorcycle the best I can, but miss. Yelling, I throw the gun at a man's head and run inside to find Bane on the ground, crippled up, a concrete wall in rubble, some of it laying on him, pinning him to the ground.

"Jesus!" I ramble in French and press down on my earpiece. "Gerard! We need the ambulance here at the Hall, _now!_" I scream, pulling a rock off of Bane's leg. Fontaine works quickly to free him as I check on his mask. He's breathing, but the blood pouring out of his shoulder counter acts that. I press my hands firmly into his shoulder and wait for Gerard to answer. "Gerard!" I scream again.

"What!?" he asks in the earpiece, annoyed.

"I don't need your attitude. Get the ambulance here! _Now!_" I bark.

"Right away," he replies.

"How does it look down there?" I ask, peering at Fontaine. Fontaine has always been our medic, which is why my father brought him - pre-planning.

"He needs desperate medical attention. I'm thinking he's broken his leg. And that wound up there doesn't look good." I curse again and start to ramble in French.

"I need help!" my father yells in a cry over the earpiece. My heart wrenches.

"_Father_," I breathe. I desperately want to get up and help him, regardless of my training – to keep calm and focused regardless of the situation – I can't. I can feel my hands shake as he cries.

"I've been hit in my stomach – Talia – " he chokes. "_Damn it_…"

"Gerard!" I scream in the earpiece again. "Go and get my father. Get Bane _after_ you get my father!" Fontaine stares at me in disbelief. A cop enters the Hall. I pick up a rifle on the ground beside us and shoot him in the chest quickly. He stumbles backwards. "Trade me places," I order, shoving Fontaine up near Bane's shoulder. He obeys without a word. I cover them both as a few more men enter the Hall. There is a roar of noise from outside, whatever it is, it keeps the men from coming forward. I can barely hear the siren echoing in the distance. I am itching to make sure my father is alright. "Where are you, Gerard!?" I ask, checking the rounds on the gun. I want to pull my shinobi off, but I know I can't risk being seen.

"I'm _close!_ Would you calm the fuck down?"

"Do you have him?"

"Yes," he answers, in a sharp tone. I hear the siren near and look at Fontaine.

"How are we going to do this?" I ask.

"Well, we _can't_ carry him," Fontaine states. "He's too damn heavy. We'll never make it down the steps."

"We need the stretcher out of the back," I tell Gerard through the earpiece.

"Jesus Christ, _yes!_" he screams. There is a loud ripping noise and I assume he's pulled his earpiece out. The siren wails just outside of the Hall, I can barely make out the lights and the top of the ambulance from my position. A loud clattering echoes in the room and Gerard steps into the room, a stretcher trailing behind him.

"You have some fucking nerve," I yell, approaching him with rage blurring my vision. I pull back my fist and prepare to strike him when Fontaine calls out.

"Stop it, Victoria. We _don't_ have time for this." I ignore him and slam my fist across Gerard's face.

"Why didn't you answer the first time I called you?!" I order, staring at him as he cradles his face.

"I was too busy trying to keep people from stealing the ambulance!" he answers, barely above a whisper.

"Whatever. Let's just get the fuck out of here." We steady the stretcher and work as a team to pull Bane onto the stretcher. Fontaine was definitely right. There was no way in hell we could have carried him down the steps ourselves. We get the stretcher down to the ambulance as easily as we can. The street is completely empty aside from the dead bodies that litter the ground. Gerard opens the door to the back and I almost faint. My father has a bandage wrapped around his stomach that is soaked in blood. His eyes look at me with a weakness that I have never seen before. I climb into the back with him and Bane and slam the doors closed. Fontaine and Gerard and climb in and take off.

"We need to find Talia," I order, placing an IV into Bane's arm. I wrap a bandage around his shoulder and hold onto my father's hand.

Gerard stops the ambulance after a few minutes. I impatiently stomp between the stretchers and look out and over his shoulder. We all silently stare at Talia's corpse, slumped out of one of the armored trucks. Her mouth is slack, blood dripping and pooling in the snow under the truck.

"What should we do?" asks Fontaine in a whisper.

"Leave her," I answer, ducking my head into the back of the ambulance. "We don't have room for her." The ambulance shakes slightly and a muted explosion rips through my ears. "Is that the bomb?" I ask, cautiously, fearing that we're all about ready to explode.

"I think so," Fontaine replies. He peers up out of his window and gasps. "_Holy shit_ – he did it." I scream and slam my fist into the metal wall of the ambulance.

**XXXXX**

We work tirelessly for almost the entire night. Fontaine has to stitch up my father and set Bane's leg and the process seems to take forever.

I can't sleep. My mind is a muddled mess. Between my father's injury and not knowing if Blake is safe and the death of Talia and the success of Bruce… I can't bring myself to rest. I sit in the basement of the townhouse, beside my father, holding onto his hand as a ventilator breathes for him. Fontaine places a plate of food on the table in between their beds and claps a hand on my shoulder before leaving. The door squeaks shut and Bane's eyes flutter. He groans and breathes in deeply a few times. I pull my chair back away from my father's bed and stand, watching to see what he'll do. His muscles contract tightly and he opens his eyes. He blinks a few times and meets my gaze.

"What happened?" he asks, quietly.

"We failed," I reply in a shrug. He closes his eyes and his hands ball into fists. He lies that way for a long time before speaking again.

"Talia is gone… _isn't she?_" he asks, his eyes still closed. I bow my head and stare at the ground, not quite sure I want to deliver the information to him. I swallow, trying to think of a nice way to say it. "_Say it!_" he orders in a calm voice.

"Bane – I –"

"Say it!" he screams.

"She's dead," I state, plainly. He opens his eyes and I can see the glassiness of them, the tears lining his eyes. The pain in his eyes makes me think back to Blake and I feel myself even break even further. I walk to his bed and sit on the side of it. I place a hand on the top of his head, just to the left of his mask and hold it there. He breathes in deeply and I watch the tears fall from his closed eyes.


	10. Chapter 10: An Enigma

**No edits! I have a bad habit of skipping words. I'll re-read through this later and make changes accordingly, but right now, I'm just itching to post this.**

**I appreciate all of the support! Seriously! It means a lot to me to get feedback and followers. :)**

**No crazy tired quotes from Tom Hardy movies today. Enjoy! - D**

What happened is all over the news, shots of the bomb exploding in the water are played over and over again. Everyone is telling their stories of Batman and the tragedy of his death. It's been two days. I haven't touched a bite of food. My time is mostly eaten away by sitting next to my father, hoping he'll wake up.

"Heard from lover boy?" Gerard asks as we sit in the living room. I shake my head silently, ignoring his behavior. I don't have the energy to argue. Fontaine shuts the television off and looks over at me.

"You really should eat," he tells me. "Not eating won't make him better." I glance over at the scuffed up Fontaine. He has a few bruises on his face from the fighting. His gray eyes stare into me, unblinking. "He needs you to be strong. You're the progeny. You're the _Master_ right now." I stare regretfully at the floor. Fontaine is right. No Master would be seen in this condition, sulking around. Ra's al Ghul was my father's best friend and I never once saw him act differently when he heard of his death. "He chose you because you're strong." I nod my head, agreeing with him.

"I'm sorry," I speak before looking back up.

"It's understandable with all you have going on. You just need to remember what you are now." He pats my shoulder warmly. "Gerard, grab her some dinner, please." Without a word Gerard leaves and returns with a bowl of soup and bread. I eat it slowly. The first bite churns my stomach into a mixture of satisfaction and nausea.

"Do you have a plan?" Gerard asks simply, sitting in his recliner. I want to say find Blake, but my mouth doesn't move. "Because we need a plan."

"Give it a rest! _Christ!_ It's only been two days," Fontaine sighs, glaring in Gerard's direction.

"I'm sorry that I _actually_ want to leave this hellhole."

"I'll contact the League in the morning," I state, ignoring Gerard. "I'll start working on a second strike."

"That's a good plan," Fontaine comments with a nod.

"I agree. If it gets us out of here," adds Gerard. I sit the bowl down, keeping myself from throwing it at him.

"How about I just send your ass home and we'll continue to do our fucking jobs," I snap, scowling at him. He opens his mouth to talk, but I stop him. "If you _were_ smart, you'd keep your damn mouth shut right now. I have no idea why you were ever made a member in the first place. You're _pathetic_, mouthy, and ignorant. And if I had the power to demote you out, I'd do it in a heartbeat." He drops his hear and Fontaine smirks at him. Saying everything I've needed to, I retreat back down into the basement, where Bane is awake, sitting up in his bed.

"Are you alright?" I ask, sitting down beside my father. He nods once, but the looks in his eyes tells me differently. I sigh and pull out a vial of pain medication from the nightstand. After administering the medication, I return to my spot. It's became a habit the last couple days – taking care of Bane. He might have been an asshole to me, but I couldn't let him suffer like that. Asshole or not, he was my brother, and I would have helped Gerard if he was in the same position, as much as it would have killed me to. Bane has barely spoken to me, but I help him when I know he needs it. The expression on his face when he's in pain is easy to spot. His eyes grow larger and he stares into space, not really watching anything.

My hands run themselves down the stubble of my father's face. Pushing back his patches of gray hair on the side of his head, I sigh. He doesn't so much as twitch. I adjust his blanket, raising it up, bring it up higher on his chest. It's cold in the basement. I glance over at Bane's raised skin and set out to look for heavier blankets.

"Cold?" I ask, standing up. He shakes his head. I've heard of stubborn, but this is ridiculous. "Don't give me that shit, Bane." In a cupboard I find two heavy sherpa blankets. I pull them out and carry them to his bed. I drape one around his shoulders and make sure not to disturb the wound there. He studies me carefully while I lay the second blanket over his legs.

"Thank you," he breathes. My eyes meet his. There is a hint of green mixed in with the blue that I have never seen before. It's unexpectedly beautiful. The unusual graciousness makes me smirk. It must be the medication.

"You're welcome," I answer with a smile. After finding two more blankets, I place one over my father and keep one for myself. I wrap it around my body tightly and mindlessly play with the trinkets on my necklaces.

"I'm sorry," Bane says out of nowhere. My eyebrows raise, I look over in his direction and watch him. He looks down at the blanket.

"For what?" He looks back up.

"For being an asshole to you." He is definitely high on pain medication.

"Don't worry about it," I quip, waving a blanket covered hand at him.

"It wasn't right." He leans up against his pillows and sighs. "I was jealous. I thought he was going to choose me." His eyes flick to my father's unmoving body. "I didn't trust his judgment and I should have. He let me back into the League after Ra's kicked me out and I repay him by judging him." He shakes his head and continues to talk to my father, as if he is awake. "He didn't have to let me back in, but he did." I suddenly understand his bullheadedness towards the fight with Bruce. He wanted to impress my father by taking him out alone. "I took it out on you and – I honestly would have taken it out on anyone – well, everyone except for Talia." He holds a hand over the tubing of his mask and I watch his eyes pool with tears. Sighing I sit on his bed, next to his feet. I place a hand on his unbroken leg. We've both lost someone we care about. Blake may not be dead, but the pain from knowing I'll never see him again eats away at me with as much as if he was. My father's health doesn't help the situation. He breathes in deeply and the tears dissipate. His chest shudders and he close his eyes. "How did she die?" he croaks.

"I'm not quite sure," I answer. "We found her after she was dead. She was in the truck that was carrying the bomb."

"Is Selina alive?"

"I have no idea." I don't even understand why that's relevant, but it's his high, not mine.

"For the new Master you sure as _fuck_ don't know a lot," he snaps. With that, I pull my hand back and clench my jaw. So much for being nice.

"She hasn't been seen since that day."

"But Bruce is dead?"

"He was flying the Bat out into the ocean with the bomb – so – it's safe to say yes." Unless Bruce has trained himself in ways to survive an atom bomb explosion…

"Do you have a plan?" I sigh and replace my empty chair with my body.

"Yes." He stares at me and I know he's waiting for the rest of my answer. Jesus, was I ever this impatient for orders? Thinking back, I realize that I was. I never realized how crazy it must have driven my father. "I'm bringing the rest of the League here. I'm going to contact them in the morning. We're going to prepare to strike again."

"How?" I rub my temples and shake my head.

"I don't know yet." He laughs at my response. "Well, please, _all mighty_ Bane, God of ideas, if you have one, please, feel free to share," I quip.

"I do have an idea," he quips back, glaring at me.

"Consider me all ears."

"Chemical warfare." I wait for him to continue, but he doesn't. The words bring horrifying images to mind. My father taught me history as often as he could and he never failed to leave war out.

"That's it?"

"Can't expect a _simple_ member like me to give you all of your ideas, _Master._" I roll my eyes. "Terran was developing a few new chemicals back home before we left to come here. You might ask him when they arrive."

"I'll think about it," I state, not really wanting to take it that far. Things like mustard gas and the like made me queasy. I wanted to kill these people as quickly as possible, not torture them. That wasn't in my nature.

"You'll need a plan before they arrive. When they show up you'll have ten people barking up your tree, not just one or two." He's right. If I don't have a set plan by the time they arrive, I'll be fucked. Unless my father wakes up. Looking over at him, I release a breath.

**XXXXX**

My phone call with the League is brief. I speak with Ling, the man my father left in charge, and inform him of what's happened. What he tells me is devastating news. Apparently they can't be in Gotham until the end of next week and it might be even later than that. A disease has broken out in a city nearby the grounds and a recent tropical storm has flooded the streets. Ling promises me they'll be on the next available flight over after things have calmed down. I'm angry, but I know that floods and tropical storms are common in that area during this season. I also know how ugly the floods can be from experience, so I try not to take my anger out on him.

"Trapped like rats," curses Gerard as I hang up the phone. "That's what we are."

"Sure, whatever," I mutter, pouring myself a cup of coffee.

"They can swim. That's bullshit! _A flood_?! A floor stopping the _League of Shadows_! Unbelievable!" I steel myself.

"I will _not_ risk lives of more members on us when we are in no immediate danger," I bark. Being Master was a lot harder than it seemed. Being in my position, I have come to respect my father even more. The pressure is unreal. People constantly looking to you, taking out their problems on you. No wonder my father was so short all of the time. Gerard yells like a disobedient child and storms off. I take a steady sip of my coffee and growl when someone yells my name. Wincing, I swallow the hot coffee. "What?" I shout, walking towards the voice.

"He's awake!" Fontaine yells, his voice traveling up from the basement. I bound down the stairs immediately. When I round the corner to face the beds, I halt at the sight. My father stares at me and blinks, his eyebrows threaded together. He coughs hard, his entire body seizing up.

"Is he alright?" I ask in a panicked tone. Sweat is dripping from his forehead. Bane observes us from his bed a couple of feet away, watching each of us behind his emotionless eyes.

"As good as he can be," Fontaine answers, fiddling with a few pieces of medical equipment next to my father's bed.

"And _what_ the hell does _that_ mean?" I hiss.

"He has an pneumonia," Bane states. We both turn to look at him. "You can hear it in his cough. I heard it a lot in The Pit. It's in the early stages of infection."

"Is he right?" I ask, staring at Fontaine. He doesn't speak. "Answer me. _Now_," I order. I would hate to hurt Fontaine after everything he's done for me, but when it comes to my father, anyone in my way is a threat.

"Yes," he replies, quietly. I take a few deep breaths to calm my nerves. My father squeezes my hand.

"Water," he coughs.

"Sure, papa." I smile warmly at him. I hold a straw out of a bottle of water for him and let him suck until he's satisfied. "Do we have medicine for what he has?"

"Yes," Fontaine tells me. He opens a medicine cart in the corner of the room and pulls out a vial. "I'll start him on it right away."

"Good." I sit in my chair and hold my father's hand, stroking it gently. Fontaine packs up and leaves, leaving the three of us alone. "Sorry I wasn't here when you woke up."

"It's alright, _my lion_," he chokes with a smile. Frowning, I pull his blankets back a bit to help take some weight off of his chest. "What happened?"

"Well, the bomb was dropped into the ocean. Bruce and Talia have both perished." My father nods. "I've called in for the rest of the League. There is a flood right now, so I've told them to come the moment its safe."

"Excellent."

"What happened to you, Master?" Bane asks.

"I was shot out of the truck by Selina. Talia was driving the truck – I was hanging out of the window to shoot for cover. Needless to say, that wasn't the best idea." He laughs softly, but stops when he notices that neither one of us is laughing. "Talia's death was unfortunate. She was a fantastic fighter. She had her father's heart." He coughs loud and hard, wincing with each one. He motions for a tissue. I place on his hand immediately. He coughs into it and pulls away, leaving a small glob of bloodied green mucous in the middle of it. I hold up the trash can and allow him to throw it away. "You're in charge until I'm better."

"I understand, sir." He smiles at me, rubbing a hand down my cheek.

"I love you." I smile and bend down to kiss his cheek.

"I love you, too." I rub his damp hair back away from his forehead and smirk. Affection between the both of us is very rare, I cherish it when it happens, because I'm never really sure when it will happen again. "Get some rest, papa." He smiles and closes his eyes. I face Bane and recognize the look of distress. "Are you hungry?" I ask, knowing that he hasn't had an IV for nutrients in a few days.

"No," he answers. I shake my head.

"Your stubbornness will get you killed one day," I sigh, pulling a nutrition pack out of the mini-fridge under the nightstand. Considering Bane's mouth is covered and sealed off by his mask, he relies on an IV of proteins, carbs, vitamins, and a few other things to help keep him alive.

"That's what they keep telling me," he laughs. I shake my head again and smirk, attaching the bag to his line. His eyes remain on mine.

"What?" I ask with a laugh.

"Nothing," he answers, pulling his eyes away.

**XXXXX**

Within a few days, my dad isn't better, he's worse. The cold in the basement doesn't help his condition and we move him upstairs into my bedroom. Fontaine insists on letting me sleep in his bedroom so he can sleep in the basement, but I refuse. Fontaine comes into the basement and wakes me up. I steal a glance at Bane to make sure he's still asleep before squinting at Fontaine.

"The medication isn't strong enough," Fontaine informs me.

"Are you _kidding_ me?" I snap. "You _said_ he'd be _fine_."

"I know," he sighs, regret filling his voice. "I'm sorry." I sigh loudly. Fontaine has done everything he can to help my father. I know this, but it doesn't keep me from getting angry.

"What do we do?"

"I need you to steal some antibiotics from a pharmacy."

"Okay," I state, rubbing my face.

"Are you okay with that?"

"Yes," I answer with a scowl. "Why _wouldn't _I be?"

"You're the Master, Victoria. It's your decision." I'm still not entirely used to hearing that or thinking that way. It's difficult to remember you're in charge. I sit up and yawn, stretching my arms above my head. He gives me a list and starts to repeat what's on it.

"I can read, Fontaine."

"Of course." He smiles slightly, then bows his head.

"Do I need to go now or can it wait until tonight?"

"Tonight's fine and it'll be safer to wait."

"Alright." I nod and place the list on the table. "Tonight it is then." I yawn and lay back down. "See you in a few hours."

When I open my eyes again, Bane is up stumbling around the basement. I bolt upright in a panic, thinking something is wrong with him.

"What are you doing?" I ask, sleepily.

"Baking a cake," he deadpans, taking a shaky step forward as he clutches a crutch under his right arm. I laugh and rub my eyes. He squints his eyes at me.

"Is that you smiling?"

"Possibly," he replies. In that moment, I miss Blake's smile. The dimples, the way his eyes would scrunch up, and the lines on his face. I drop my head and try to shake the funk away from me. I will never see that smile again.

"_Aren't you_ an enigma," I tease.

"Want to watch how far I can go?" he asks, holding up the crutch.

"Not if it means watching you fall." He laughs and his eyes scrunch up again.

"Well, I haven't fallen _yet_."

"That's good." I yawn loudly and stretch my shoulders out.

"Hear you have a mission tonight."

"That I do." I almost forgot. I smile widely at the thought of running free through the streets, the wind blowing on my face. I'm itching to get out. A part of me wants to run out and see if I can find Blake, but I know I can't.

"I wish I could go with. I would give anything to get outside for a while."

"Trust me – I can't wait."

"I bet not." He walks over to his bed and sits, resting the crutch against his bed. "I feel like I'm in prison again." He grunts, rotating his shoulder. "No sunlight, no room to move, no interaction with anyone, but the same people." He sighs and reconnects his IV. "At least you're not trying to kill me. That's the only difference," he laughs. I smirk, not really wanting to smile or laugh at such a horrific experience.

"No, not yet," I tease. His eyes squint. "I can always bring Fontaine or Gerard down here if you're tired of my company." Bane's eyes widen as I pull my boxing gloves on.

"No, I didn't mean it like that." His eyes grow serious and he shakes his head a few times. I smile.

"I was just teasing, Bane."

"Good. I couldn't handle Gerard. How did you _even_ live with him?"

"I have no idea," I answer honestly.

"Well, you have _far_ more patience than I do. He'd be dead already." His comment makes me laugh. I watch as his eyes scrunch up again.

He watches me intently for a while as I box, not really saying anything, just watching. I pause when I see that faraway look in his eyes, looking up at the clock, it's been almost an hour.

"Hungry?" I ask, breathlessly. Bane nods once, short. I wipe the sweat from my forehead onto my forearm and help him hook his bag up.

"Thank you," he sighs, resting against his pillows. I feel some empathy for him. I hate being cooped up inside, but at least I can still do things, unlike him.

"You're welcome," I reply, taking my shoes off. I sigh and gently massage my hands, they are still sore from fighting a week ago.

"You fight well." His voice catches me off guard, the statement even more so. "I think I've greatly underestimated you."

"Thank you." Pulling open the drawer full of my clothes I retrieve a pair of leggings and a large black knit sweater. He looks at my clothes then at me.

"When I can shower?" he asks. The question is so simple and needy that I almost forgot how it must feel not to be able to shower either.

"I'm not sure. Do you want me to ask Fontaine when I'm upstairs?"

"Yes."

"Okay." Gathering up my things I head up to shower. Gerard steps into the stairwell and holds his hands up. Sighing loudly I start to shove him out of the way.

"No," he whispers, gently shoving me backwards. Heat rises up in my belly. I hiss and shove against him.

"What the _fuck_?" I growl.

"You can't go up right now."

"Gerard," I sigh. "I have _zero_ patience for your antics right now." Squaring my shoulders, I prepare to shove by him.

"Victoria," he warns. "You can't go up there right now."

"And why not?"

"Blake is up there." The voice throws me to the ground, stopping me in my place. I stand still and look up at him, trying to find his bluff. I know Gerard too well to know it's a rare moment of truth. Swallowing, I place a hand on my trinkets and stare at the door behind him.

"Does he look okay? Is he okay?" I ramble. My eyes still on the door, halfway hoping he'll burst in at any moment.

"He's fine. He's been busy. Fontaine is telling him that you and I had to return home."

"And who is Fontaine saying he is?" Gerard pauses and rubs his forehead.

"My boyfriend," he mutters. I laugh.

"Oh, _that's_ classic," I giggle, doubling over.

"Yeah, laugh it up."

"Trust me, I will." I head back downstairs and sit on my bed. Gerard attempts to sit beside me and I shove him off. Bane looks at the both of us, confusedly.

"What's going on?" Bane questions. Now that Gerard is in the basement, he's trying to seem more lucid and tougher. He's sitting up straighter, his muscles contracting in his shoulders as he pulls his IV out of his arm.

"Blake's upstairs," Gerard answers without missing a beat.

"That cop?"

"Yes, he came by to see Victoria. Fontaine's handling it." Bane's eyes lock on me.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes," I reply, keeping my voice strong and even. I'm really not alright. I want to run up into his arms and hold him for hours. He raises an eyebrow at me. "_I'm fine_." Gerard takes a glance in my direction, but immediately looks away when we lock eyes. "You guys, it was an undercover mission. Would you both like to get off of my back? Jesus," I curse.

"Undercover missions are difficult," Bane adds.

"_Don't _patronize me," I warn. What happened to the Bane I saw that night that was so judgmental about Blake? I understand he was angry that I had been chosen as progeny, but there are some things you don't forget easily. We might have been friendly with each other the last week, but I didn't want to hear support about things that I didn't get support for before. If that made any amount of sense. He shakes his head at my words and ushers himself off to the bathroom.


	11. Chapter 11: Deadly Service

**This chapter is short, the next one will be long like the others. I didn't really know how to break this up. I didn't want to leave the next chapter off with too much of a cliffhanger. I edited this, but I don't know how great of a job I did – sometimes I still skip words or mess up. Anyway, here we are, lovelies. xxxx – D**

Fontaine enters a few moments after Bane leaves. He sits down on Bane's bed and sighs. "_Well_, _that_ was interesting," he states. "He'll probably be back in a few days with a search warrant. I think he believes I'm just holding you both hostage."

"What took him so long to show up?" I ask. It's the only thing I can honestly think of. It's the only thing I want to know in the moment.

"Work," he answers. "At least that's what he said." For some reason, it makes me angry. It shouldn't, but it still hurt to know that it took him almost a week to check up on me.

"Mhm," I mumble. "So much for finding me as soon as it was over." Fontaine shrugs. "Anything else?"

"No." Bane emerges from the bathroom with a concentrated look on his face. I know he's in pain. I exhale and remove myself from the bed to help him to his bed. When my hands touch his shoulders he shrugs me off almost immediately.

"Quit being so damn stubborn," I hiss, putting my hands back on him. This time he allows me to help without much of a fight. Fontaine scrambles out of the way. He plops down on his bed and stares at me, burrowing his blue-green gaze into my soul. At least that's how it feels. I flush and cover him with a blanket.

"You'll both need to stay down here as much as possible. Same goes for Gerard, but I'll keep him upstairs. After the rest of the League shows up we'll try to move you out somewhere else."

"I'd appreciate that," Bane clips, sending a look in Gerard's direction.

"I'm sure," Fontaine agrees, seeming to catch on to what he's really saying. "But we need to stay hidden and off of the radar." I nod, folding my arms over my chest. Fontaine's gray eyes meet my blue ones. I pick up on his unspoken meaning in his expression. He thinks I'm going to try and find a way back to Blake. I wish I could say I didn't want to, but I do.

"I'm sure Bane would also appreciate a shower," I chirp, trying to take the heat off of me. I gesture towards Bane and smirk. Fontaine looks at me confusedly for a moment, then glances down at him.

"Would you like a shower?" Fontaine asks.

"Yes," Bane replies, not making eye contact with anyone.

"Well, with your cast you can't shower, but you can bathe."

"It's all the same, isn't it?" He glares in Fontaine's direction.

"Sure." He nods at Bane. "How about now?"

"That's perfect."

Assisting with Bane's bath is no easy task. He's heavy, massive, and injured. He takes up the entire bath tub. His arms are perched on the sides of the tub, almost the entire length of his torso is out of the water. I'm holding his injured leg out of the water while Fontaine scrubs him down. Bane stiffens at each touch. His bandage is off exposing red hot, fresh new skin growth. I almost forgot about his rapid healing, I had expected the wound to look much worse. He claims it doesn't hurt, but I can tell by his wide eyed expression when he moves that it is very tender.

We sit him on a chair to dry him off after the bath is over. Fontaine heads out to find him some flannel pajamas while I dab his skin dry. There is a towel draped across his lower body and that's all. His skin is covered in scars – the largest one trailing his spine, disappearing under his mask. Stepping in front of him I pat his scalp and chest, gingerly patting on his injured shoulder. His eyes follow each movement I make – it's unnerving. He used to have no effect on me whatsoever, but him, naked, with me, injured and dependent – it's intimate. And intimate is definitely not a word I would use to describe our relationship before this. I smile and wrap the towel around his shoulders. He squints his eyes.

"Feel better?" I ask.

"Yes."

"I'll go get your IV ready, alright?" He nods. "Think you'll be okay in here alone?" He lets out a small laugh.

"I believe so." I turn to leave the room and slide into a puddle of water. My usually catlike reflexes fail me. I reach out to clutch the door and miss it. Falling, two large arms wrap around me from behind. The feeling of weightlessness stops. Bane pulls me into his lap and holds me against his bare chest tightly.

"Are you okay?" he asks simply. I nod and sit there, shocked, not really knowing what to say. His eyes study me. I stare back and observe him, watching the way the light glints off of his mask, the curious expression in his eyes. It's still very strange for me to see a network of tubing instead of a nose and mouth. One of his large hands moves up near my face and with an unexpected softness he pushes a few stray curls back. His hands, like the rest of his body are very warm. I keep my eyes glued to him and feel an exchange of something that I can't quite put into words. His thumb rubs down the side of my face, trailing my jaw and he puts me into a small trance. Fontaine clears his throat from the doorway. We both jerk back to reality at the noise. I don't know how neither one of us didn't hear him. Bane helps me stand and without a word I stalk upstairs to shower.

**XXXXX**

Nightfall descends upon Gotham. Without Bane's martial law it's going to be much harder to sneak around the streets without being seen. In the basement I wrap the shinobi around my head, my chest plate and shoulder plates make a slight clanking sound as I move. Bane is perched up in bed, green plaid flannel pajama pants on with a white tank top covering his chest. I mumble through the list out loud as I attach my weapons to my back. Bane's watching the news on the flood situation in India. From the images it looks serious. While that might be important, there is something else I'm about to do that requires all of my focus. I shove the knife into my boot and turn to face him.

"Want anything while I'm out?" I ask, adjusting the tightness on my belt. His eyes squint and he raises an eyebrow.

"Ninja Delivery Service?" he deadpans. I manage to give a small laugh.

"_Deadly_ Ninja Delivery Service," I correct. He laughs.

"No. I don't need anything."

"Alright." I recheck my shinobi and nod. "I'll be back later."

"Stick to the shadows."

"_Always_," I chime, bounding up the stairs. I make a stop in my father's room. His eyes are heavy with sickness. He coughs and tries to speak, but the words fail him. I tell him I'll be back soon and shut his door lightly.

Back down in the kitchen, Fontaine is waiting for me. He throws a black leather satchel over my shoulder and starts to repeat the list. "I know what I'm getting, Fontaine," I growl.

"Okay, okay," he mutters, opening the door for me. I step out into the darkness of the alley and let it wash over me. The wind is just as relentless as I remember it. My eyes squint against the chill. Crouching down I dart down the alleyway. Cars are driving along the street freely, a few people are walking and its loud, not serene like before. I keep my body against the wall, keeping as close to it as possible.

A teenage couple walks into the alley from one that intersects mine. They mindlessly stroll past me. The pharmacy that I'm heading to is a few buildings down from the townhouse. It's the last building on two intersecting streets. Whoever planned out the location of our townhouse did an extremely great job – my father's work – no doubt. A stray cat leaps down from the top of a dumpster, sending me into high alert mode. With a swipe my sword is in my hand and I crouch, ready to strike at anything that dares to move. The cat meows and I sigh silently. Shaking my head, I replace my sword and sneak my way to the pharmacy without any more events.

The pharmacy is a brick building with no windows except for the front store windows and ones that are a story up, like most other buildings in Gotham. Taking a glance at the dumpster below one of the second story windows, I know it's my best bet. The door that leads into the store as the back entrance has an alarm and it's much too complicated to manipulate. With an exhale, I pull my body onto the dumpster and try the window. It's unlocked. Smiling, I push it up and pull myself in. There are a few lights on, but no cameras or alarms from what I can see. The room I've pulled myself into is much like a stockroom. The shelves are lined with nonprescription medication, bandages, and medical tape.

After I find the stairs I descend, ducking down as a few car's lights beam in. The glow from the streetlights doesn't help. Between all of the cars and the peoples moving the shadows move and reflect off of various surfaces, raising my senses. I jump over the counter to the pharmacy with ease. This has been way too easy. Walking towards a shelf of narcotics, a beam of light bounces off, dully. Squinting, I watch it happen again. Plexi-glass?

I place my hand on it and feel the difference in its texture compared to regular glass. It is definitely plexi-glass. Muttering under my breath I search for a key slot on the wall of plastic. So much for easy mission. I pull a small pin for lock picking out of the side of my shinobi. Grasping it tightly in between my fingers, I yank my right hand's glove off with my thighs. I don't breathe for a while. I jiggle the pin in and listen for a click, but between the cars and the ventilation system, it's too loud. Drawing an ear closer to the lock I focus and try to listen harder. I jiggle the pin and hear a quite click. Smirking, I start again. I turn my wrist and a siren blares. Adrenaline pumps through my body. I curse and shove the pin around more, this time without patience.

Red lights flash on and off above me. Out of frustration I kick the plexi-glass. This is my father's medicine. This is medicine that is going to keep him alive. Swallowing my anger, I steady my nerves and place the pin in the lock on the row of shelves next to me. It jiggles open almost immediately. Squinting at the labels on the bottles, I try to read them as the lights flash on and off. I give up on trying and my ability to recall the names leaves my brain. I pull open the satchel and shove the medicine in, not really caring if it's right or not. I don't have time.

The air in the room changes and shifts, it becomes more dense. Without seeing, I know there is another person in the room with me. I stop in my tracks and pull a knife off of my belt, spinning around to face the culprit. I grip the knife tightly when I see who is before me. It's goddamn Bruce Wayne in his Batsuit.

"Bruce," I snarl. "You're _supposed _to be _dead_." Police sirens wail outside, the frequency telling me that they are very close.

"Yet here I am," he rumbles back. I clench my jaw and kick him in the stomach. He grunts and flails backwards, bouncing off of a sheet of plexi-glass behind him. Red and blue lights swirl outside.

"Well, I'd _love_ to stay and chat and here all about that, _but_ – " I gesture outside. "There are obvious circumstances that prevent me from doing so." I snatch my glove off of the ground and pull it back on. He lays flat against the shelving for a minute, letting me bolt up the stairs without a fight. I secure the satchel to my body. With a light thud I land on the dumpster and lights inside of the building flick on. Focusing, I jump onto the snow and run down the alleyway, keeping my body against the buildings. There is an audible zipping noise from behind me. Bruce tackles me before I can turn. I somersault with him on my back and wiggle myself out of his hold. He fails to block his face and I smirk. He remembers nothing of training. He's grown arrogant. Balling my fist up I punch him square in the jaw with an uppercut. He falls backwards like a brick. Not having any more time to waste, I sprint down the alley again, and stop in a small alcove a couple of buildings South of my townhouse.


	12. Chapter 12: Master

**No edits, yet. Just freshly typed. Plan on reading and editing tomorrow. Thank you guys! - D**

It takes close to an hour for the police to die down. I slink back to the townhouse and slither into the kitchen where Fontaine is waiting for me, impatiently. Ripping the shinobi off I thrust the satchel into his chest. He opens the flap silently and peers inside, retrieving a couple of bottles.

"These aren't the right kind," he states as I sit at the table. I clench my jaw and glower at him.

"I'll try again tomorrow," I mutter, ripping my boots off. "There were complications."

"I saw that," he answers, quietly. "We all did."

"I'll try again tomorrow," I repeat, throwing my shoes at the door. He looks at me silently, his gray eyes filled with some emotion I can't read. Raising my eyebrows, I stare back, waiting for him to speak. "What Fontaine?" I quip, rubbing my hands down my thighs.

"We might not have that long," he tells me, emptying the contents of the satchel onto the table.

"Not much I can do about that right now," I growl, hastily tearing my gloves off. "You're more than welcome to go try."

"You were our best shot." Reading a few labels on the medicines I lifted, I discover that I've stolen nothing more than a bunch of sleeping aides. With a quick swipe of my wrists I knock the bottles to the floor. My fists pound the table hard, multiple times. Gritting my teeth I force myself to breathe. Fontaine rubs my shoulder silently. My inner assassin wants me to run out of the house, hunt down Bruce, and bash his skull in. I know that's not logical. If I get arrested, it'll only make things worse. "I can keep him comfortable until tomorrow."

"Can I see him?"

"He's asleep right now. It's best for him to sleep." I nod. I shouldn't be tired, but the word sleep pulls heavily on my eyelids. He pats my shoulders.

"You need rest, too."

"Yeah," I yawn, unbuckling my belt. I toss it onto the table and head off for the basement. Bane is wide awake, perched on the end of his bed. He turns the television off the moment I round the corner. His blue-green eyes track me.

"Did you fight him?" Bane asks.

"Yes." Without any modesty I pull my gear off and replace it with a pair of baggy sweatpants and a t-shirt. He exhales loudly, the frustration evident.

"I thought he died…"

"Well, so did I," I quip, cutting him off. I don't make eye contact with him as I jump into bed, but I know he's watching me. "What, Bane?" I ask in a growl, rolling onto my side, facing the wall.

"Master is going to be fine, Victoria," he states. Swallowing hard, I steal a glance in his direction. "He'll be fine," he repeats, his voice stronger and clearer.

**XXXXX**

I get up around 8 in the morning, I can't sleep anymore. Sticking to my daily routine, I box, eat, and shower, spending the rest of my day planning out a second robbery. Bane throws in a few tips or ideas, hunching over a map of the city with me at the table.

"It'd be easier if you weren't alone," he comments as I draw out a route. I scoff and place the pen on the table, raising my eyes to meet his.

"Yeah, that's not happening."

"I would go."

"Yes, you would, but you're hurt." He touches my face lightly, cupping my jaw with his hand.

"Bruce has hurt us all in many ways," he starts. "I will kill him, Victoria. I'll kill him with my bare hands."

"Victoria," Fontaine yells from the top of the stairs leading to the bedroom. "Master is awake." I leap out of my chair, pausing for a moment to help Bane get to his feet. He shrugs me off and tells me to head up.

My father is lying in bed, propped up on pillows. He is wheezing like mad. Blankets are draped over his lower body. I try not to look at him with pity. "Aren't you supposed to be on a ventilator?" I ask, sitting beside him in a chair. He scowls at me, his blue eyes still gleaming with fire despite his condition.

"I don't need a damn ventilator," he chokes. His skin is a pale white, his lips have a slight bluish tinge to them, and sweat is beaded all along his exposed skin.

"Well, you sound terrible. You should reconsider the ventilator."

"I _don't _need a ventilator," he insists with a snap.

"Alright." I surrender, holding my hands up. He eyeballs me and the anger leaves his eyes.

"So," he quips. "How are things?" He sniffs and adjusts the blankets on his waist.

"Good," I answer with a nod. "Why?" I ask, skeptically, knowing there is more to that question than he lets on.

"Oh, I've just heard about a certain incident between you and Bane," he states, casually flicking an imaginary string from his blanket. I freeze and feel a flush in my cheeks. He smirks and burrows his eyes into mine.

"That was nothing," I explain, my brain immediately recalling on that moment in the bathroom, the expression on his face…

"Mhm." Scooting over in his bed, he flicks the blankets back and pats the mattress beside him. "Come here," he orders. I raise an eyebrow, not fully understanding his gesture. We didn't cuddle in bed. It was weird enough for us to say I love you to each other, now this – still unsure, I awkwardly fumble into bed next to him. He throws the blankets over me and wraps an arm around my shoulders. "You don't have to be embarrassed about it." Coughing, loudly, he turns his head away, spitting mucous out into a small plastic container. Redness spreads down the length of my neck. "You did nothing wrong – in fact – I think you should be with him," he breathes. My eyes threaten to bulge out of my head. He laughs and it throws him into another coughing fit. "Oh, come on now. I know we don't usually talk like this, but let's give it a shot." I steal a glance at him and suddenly understand that the awkward conversation must be coming from the drugs Fontaine has given him. There's never been this much intrusiveness by my father into my romantic life. But, I couldn't honestly say that – it's not like Bane and I were together.

"You're both very strong, loyal, and intelligent. There's no reason you shouldn't be together."

"Father – "

"Let me finish!" I sigh and stubbornly lean back, pulling his arm off of me. "I was very pleased to hear about it. He's the only one I've found suitable for you since Aron." Stepping out of his bed, I return to the chair and stare at him for a beat.

"We're not together, father," I tell him, crossing my arms. His words run through my head like a stream, filling everything up with Bane. It did seem to make sense that two of the best assassins would become involved. I feel a tug in my lower gut at the idea, Blake's face slowly surfaces in the rush, and I swallow.

"It would make me very happy and proud to see you two together." He smiles and leans over to push a piece of my hair away from my face. "I'm not saying you need to decide now or get married tomorrow, but the idea, it just – " he pauses and his smile grows. "The idea sits well with me." He yawns and rubs his face. "Come. And sleep." He holds the blankets back again and I reluctantly crawl in beside him. He pulls me close to his chest as I face out, away from him, afraid that if I touch any bit of him, that he'll break. He mumbles an I love you in my ear and drifts off into a wheezing sleep, leaving me in a mess of confusion.

**XXXXX**

Fontaine wakes me up to check father's vitals. I open my eyes, disoriented by the new surroundings, completely shocked at where I am. There's still a couple of hours before nightfall, judging by the light coming in through the window. I saunter back down into the basement to find Bane napping, his breathing is deep and steady, and it's soothing.

Around the usual time for dinner, I leave Bane, and head up to find salad and soup. Gerard looks as though he has just woken up and Fontaine is eerily silent, his gray eyes remaining focused on the bowl before him. None of us speaks. I ran a hand through my hair and exhale, thinking about the possibility of Bane and I in a relationship. Pushing the bowl away from me, debating on whether to head up and check on father again or not.

The heart monitor upstairs chirps like crazy. We each jump and take a moment to look at each other.

"Damn it," Fontaine curses, sprinting upstairs. I throw my chair down and race up behind him. My father lays lifeless in the bed, his mouth slack, no color in his skin at all. I take a deep breath as Fontaine pushes in on his chest, performing CPR. Nothing changes.

"What's wrong?" I ask, panicking.

"He's stopped breathing," Fontaine grunts, watching the heart monitor as he pulls a large piece of equipment over to his side.

"Why?"

"Too much fluid on his lungs." He flips a switch on it and a loud sucking noise starts up. My father's face doesn't change and the heart monitor keeps chiming. I can't feel my fingers as I watch.

"You should come outside," Gerard tells me, pulling on my arm. I rip it out of his hands and slide away from him.

"I'm not going anywhere!" I yell.

"You really should wait outside," Fontaine grunts. Gerard pulls me against him, I struggle and break out of his hold. Arms bigger than Gerard's wrap around my waist. Desperate to be put down I fight as hard as I can. The arms only tighten. Gerard slams the door closed as Bane lifts me up and carries me downstairs to the living room. I've given up fighting against him. It's pointless.

"If I let you go – will you fight?" Bane asks softly, sitting down on the couch, me in his lap. I shake my head quietly and stare dejectedly at the floor. I don't move as he removes his arms.

"What if I leave now?" Bane glances outside and shakes his head.

"It's still too light out."

"But he's dying…" I whisper.

"If you leave now we'll be burying the both of you." I scoot from his lap into the empty space beside him. He pulls me close to his side and wraps an arm around me. "If he dies now – it's destined."

"How do you know it's not my destiny to die tonight then too?" I scoff. He really has balls to say something like that to me right now. "That way you can lead, just as you always wanted."

"Because I was sent here to stop you." I raise an eyebrow at him.

"What?" He squints his eyes.

"If you think I'm going to let you leave this house – you are unwise. If you even try, you _will_ be _initiated_." The lightness floods out of his eyes and his tone. I know he's serious. I slump against him. For a brief moment, I just want Blake. I want to have him hold me. I want to see his smile. I want to see his brown eyes. Bane's warmth seeps into me and feeling his arm, rock solid around me, it leads my thoughts of Blake away. My father's words resonate in my head. He runs a hand down my upper arm and sits silently, leaving me to own thoughts. The only noise made between us is his audible breathes from his mask. They aren't terribly loud, but they aren't soft like a regular person's either. I steady my breathing to match his and lay my head on his chest.

When night hits, I'm itching to leave, but I make no attempt to move. My brain sifts through memories I have with my father. The only things that come to mind involve training, sword training, martial arts, and conditioning me for the League. Nothing we did didn't involve preparation for being an assassin. Happy memories intertwine with good ones, the first sword he gave me or the night he locked me out of the training grounds when I was 12. It was freezing cold outside and I had lost my first fight. He was extremely displeased. We talked about emotions rarely, only speaking of anger, love, and revenge. Love was never described as favorable. He would explain to me about it could be used as fuel, but it could also be used as a weapon. It could build you up, but end up destroying you anyway, deceiving you from the very start. Revenge and anger had a lot to deal with fighting – using it to fight. He never taught me about sadness, he refused to discuss it. Bane cried openly in front of me when I told him about Talia, but he wasn't a progeny, and he wasn't raised with the League either. I steel myself when I hear the creaking of the stairs that lead to the living room. Fontaine enters and stands in front of me. I slowly drag my eyes to meet his.

"He's passed on," Fontaine tells me, dropping his gray eyes to the floor. He drops to one knee before me and places his right fist over his chest. "You are now officially Master of the League of Shadows." Pain eats away at the back of my throat. Bane stands, turns, and bows just like Fontaine. The burning spreads up through my nose. Gerard steps into the living room and follows the other men, bowing. "What would you like us to do with his corpse, Master?" I try to breathe, but I can't past the blockage in my throat.

"We'll burn him on the river just before dawn," I choke. I finally muster the courage to swallow, but the pain doesn't leave. "Do we still have the ambulance?"

"Yes," answers Gerard.

"Good." I nod my head at them and head to the basement. I lay on my bed, straining to remember my father's voice. My mind only focuses on the last few months and the arguments we had. The pain grows stronger and tears wield my eyes. I hold my breath, trying to keep them in. I can't be broken. I can't cry. When I exhale, they fall freely. Choking, I feel the muscles contract in my stomach. The feeling is awkward and foreign. Hot tears slide down my cheeks, my throat sears with pain. I sniffle and try to breathe. Footsteps fall on the stairs. I turn onto my side and face the wall, wiping the tears off on my shirt sleeve. By the silence and hushed robotic breathing, I know its Bane. I wait to hear the sound of his bed creak, but it doesn't.

Before I can ask him if he's alright or turn, I feel the bed behind me sink down. His heat wraps around me like a comforting blanket. Bane scoots against me, his chest resting against my back. He wraps an arm across my waist, tightly, holding me flush to him. His head is right beside mine, his mask just beside my ear. I listen and focus on his breathing. His mask accidentally stokes a patch of skin behind my ear. The chill of the mask contrasts wonderfully with his hot skin. It tickles. I jerk slightly and bite my lip to keep myself from laughing. He laughs lowly and pulls hair behind my ear.

"Ticklish?" he asks, amusement in his voice.

"Not in the slightest," I reply through a stuffy nose. "Have you ever heard of a ticklish assassin?"

"No," he answers. "But, I think you're lying."

"Test it out if you want." Bane runs the framing pipes on his mask down my neck. The mixture of his hot breath and cold mask is amazing. The feeling pricks my skin, sending a shiver down my spine. He touches the crook of my neck with it and I burst into a fit of laughter. He does it again and again, laughing with me at the same time. My father's words come to mind. I turn to face Bane and jokingly push on his chest. He laughs. I stare into his eyes cautiously, ready for another attack. His eyes are glowing. His hand rests of my face. I gently rub his temple and watch his eyes close. Impulses run rampant through me and before I can think again, I kiss his cheekbone. As I pull away, his eyes remain closed. He slowly reopens them and places three fingers over my lips. The gesture forces me to smile. His eyes search mine, quietly.

"Good night, Victoria," he whispers, holding me next to him. I smile and stare at his mask, the black opening with holes, the place where his mouth hides. Leaning in, I kiss the hard black metal, the only place on his mask that is actually warm.

"Good night," I yawn, resting my head on the pillow.


	13. Chapter 13: Release

**SORRY! I know it's been months! I'm here now. :) I have been really busy. This chapter is gonna be extra long to make up for it! Love to each of you! I'm gonna update "Warrior's Call" later tonight too!**

**D**

**XXXXX**

The stairs creaking wakes the both of us. Fontaine steps into the room and clears his throat. Bane makes no attempt to move. "The ambulance is ready, Master," Fontaine announces, staring at the floor, shyly.

"Thank you," I yawn. He bows and heads upstairs. Bane stretches, then stands, his back rippling as he stretches again. He groans a little.

"Christ, its 3 am," he mutters. I pull on a pair of heavy black sweatpants and a heavy wool sweater. Bane dresses himself in a vest and tactical pants. With a heavy sigh I throw a black thermal shirt at him.

"Put that on," I order, fearing to have to care for another sick person. His eyebrow raises slightly, but he says nothing as he takes the vest off and pulls the thermal shirt on. Fontaine and Gerard are dressed warmly upstairs, both of them in EMT uniforms. I assist Bane with his coat, due to the limited mobility of his shoulder, and I turn to face the men.

"Are you ready, Master?" Fontaine asks.

"Yes," I answer, feeling a small twinge of pain knowing I'll have to light another corpse of a loved one on fire. It must reflect on my face because Bane puts his hand around mine and squeezes as we step outside.

"Are you okay?" he whispers as we climb into the back of the ambulance, my father's body before us.

"I'll be fine." He squeezes my hand again as I stare at the sheet covered corpse.

We drive close to the drain where I saved Blake's life for a second time. It feels ages ago. At the bank of the river we shuffle out, me leading the way while the three men push his body on the stretcher. I stop about twenty yards in and stare up at the sky. The lights and clouds make it difficult to see any stars which kind of brings another unnecessary sadness. Gerard and Fontaine carefully place my father on the ice and remove the sheet. He's dressed in battle gear, a black tactical outfit on and a sword strapped to his back. The sight forces me to smile. Bane lights a torch and places it in my hands. The three men kneel around his body, their heads down. I swallow hard and look between the flame and his body. "Tomas Roux, my father, and latest Master of the League of Shadows…. With this torch, I release you into the afterlife." I take one last look at him, his sturdy frame, black hair with streaks of gray, his cut jaw, and stubbled face. I think back to his voice… four year old me bouncing wildly on his knee… his pride when I won my first fight, his secret mischievous side that he always showed to me and no one else… My hands seize up. It's Aron all over again. I can't light my father's body on fire. Looking to the men kneeled around him, I know the pressure is on. I can't just leave him trapped inside of his body like this. "Au revior , papa," I whisper, tossing the torch onto his stomach. I drop down and bow with my men, lingering only for a few minutes more.

Inside the ambulance Bane holds me against him tightly. I sit emotionless and oblivious to the world around me, watching the flames disappear behind a building as we drive back home.

**XXXXX**

I stumble inside of the townhouse and head back to my bed the minute my coat and boots are off. Bane follows behind me. I make no attempt to slow down for him. I rip my sweater and pants off and coil up in bed. When he enters the basement I half expect him to climb into his own bed, but he doesn't. He tugs his shirt off and climbs into my bed. I happily place my head on his chest, happy that I have some form of human contact. A hand silently plays with my hair as I lay there, listening to his heartbeat, watching his chest rise and fall steadily.

"You handled that well," he states. I bite back a laugh. The reality still hasn't completely sank in yet.

"It's just denial right now," I whisper, tracing a finger on his chest.

"Some of that is to be expected." The formality of his words makes me feel all pent up like I'm under my father's scrutiny. "You know you can talk to me about it," he adds. A part of me wants to, while the other half reminds me that I'm the Master now. My father did tell me it was alright to trust him – that his loyalty was far greater than anyone else's. Granted my father didn't know I fell in love with Blake either. He sighs and shifts, causing me to lean up. "Victoria, I understand what you're trying to do right now." I raise an eyebrow at him as he adjusts himself to sit up.

"What would that be?" I ask, carefully, my words loaded.

"You're trying to shut me out. You think that just because you're Master now that everything has to be a big secret."

"Doesn't it?" He laughs and shakes his head.

"No."

"What is it supposed to be like then?"

"Your father and Ra's talked all of the time when Ra's was Master."

"Then who did my father talk to when he took his place?"

"I have no idea." He shrugs. "Your father was very secretive and private, but I would imagine it was someone back home." My father slowly creeps back into the back of my mind, listing through reasons Bane and I should be together. "You'll go insane without someone to talk to."

"And you think that person is you?" His eyes widen. I almost regret what I've said, but my impulse takes control.

"Well, it doesn't have to be me," he answers, lowly, avoiding eye contact with me. I recognize the pained expression.

"I'm sorry," I apologize, not really liking the knotting in my stomach. "That was rude of me." He nods and continues to avoid my gaze. "I suppose I'm confused as to why now you suddenly care when a week ago you would have been just as happy to watch me rot." His eyes flick to mine at that last statement.

"I told you I was wrong about that." Heat increases in the room, radiating away from him. "The circumstances were different at that time."

"And would they still be different if Talia was alive?" His eyes grow dark and his pupils dilate until you can no longer see any color but blackness and the whites of his eyes.

"Perhaps I misinterpreted that look in the bathroom the other day," he quips. "But, I could have sworn by the expression on your face that you felt what I did." He shifts as if he's going to move and I pin him back in his spot on the pillows, staring into his eyes intensely. His expression becomes unreadable.

"You mean – you felt that too?" I ask, softly.

"Yes." His chest relaxes a little and he pulls me into his chest. I can still feel the tension. "This last week has opened me up to a side of you I hadn't really seen before. You weren't but a year younger than Talia when I arrived to train, then when your father invited me back, we sparred a few times, but it wasn't any real fighting. I had a bad impression of you. I had no idea what stress your father put on you to be the perfect assassin." Being locked outside in the freezing cold after losing a match pops into mind - I never said my father was perfect, even though he required it from his assassins. "Talia told me about it that night you became progeny." The small quips Bane made before all of this _**were**_ condescending, unlike what I had really thought. I feel a buildup of anger. "That day I say you fight – I knew I was wrong. I let my pride interfere, I didn't want help from you because I knew you were strong." He pushes a strand of hair away from my face and exhales. "I've really grown to known you this past week. And while Talia may have been a part of my life – she is gone. It's simple. It's just life." I tilt my head back to look into his eyes. "I will be here for you in any way I can. Just as you have for me." After a silent minute he speaks again. "For whatever reason fate decided it this way." He dips his head down slightly. "Apparently I had it wrong the entire time."

"This League isn't just about me, Bane," I mutter, still angry.

"It's all about you," he corrects me. He places a fist in my hair at the bottom of my scalp at the nape of my neck.

"So, I was just Master's _bratty_, _little_ daughter, huh?" I ask.

"_Was_?" he questions, raising an eyebrow. The expression on his face pushes the anger away and sends me into a fit of laughter. Laughing, I nip at his side, knowing damn good and well it won't affect him. "Think you're going to tickle me?" I nip his side again and his eyes enlarge. His hands shoot up and wrap around my wrists. He squeezes lightly. "Well, do you think you're going to?" he asks, narrowing his eyes. Bane rolls on top of me, positioning my arms over my head.

"No," I answer through a laugh. Silently, I debate breaking out of his hold, but I fear I'll hurt his shoulder. He runs his mask down my neck and from his new position, all pressed up against me, it only makes me aroused. The combination of metal and his hot breath on my neck sends my lower body into a pile of mush. On his third trip down my neck, a wild gasp of pleasure escapes from my mouth.

"_Oh_, do you like _this_?" he breathes in my ear.

"Yes," I moan. His hot breath hits me just below my earlobe. He rubs his piping down to the base of my neck, tantalizing it. I crave to feel his mouth, but I know I can't. I had never been unable to kiss someone before. The feeling of his hips rubbing against mine pulls me in. All thoughts I had of Blake and my father are filed away. He uses one hand to keep my hands confined and uses his other hand to hold himself up to look at me. His pupils are large and dilated, serious and full of want. Straining against his hold I kiss the center of his mask. It's warm unlike the rest of the mask. I kiss and suck on his neck, while his hips gyrate into mine. He growls lightly at the feel of my tongue flicking across his skin. Wrapping a leg around his uninjured leg, I swivel my hips, guiding him onto his back. He obeys without an objection. Slowly, I drag and rub my hands down his chest to the edge of his tactical pants. Tucking my fingers in, I tease the skin just under his waistband. He moans and pushes himself up into my hands. Rubbing my chest over the fabric of my bra, he rips it in half, throwing it away to the floor. He fists my hair as I kiss along the top of his pants. Bane grunts loudly and lifts me up. He quickly unbuckles and rips his pants off.

"I've had enough playing," he breathes, pushing me on my back. He leans down and rips my underwear off, placing himself between my legs. He rubs three fingers along my entrance, not sticking anything in. He rubs the wetness all about it. My hips jerk up and he pushes them down against the bed. His eyes look into mine. He draws his hips near and rubs me only with the tip of his cock, up and down slowly.

"I thought you said no playing," I hiss, digging my nails into his forearms.

"How am I to know what you want," he breathes, repeating the motion up and down, swirling himself along my clit. My brain shuts off every other function not related to feeling my lower body.

"I want you, Bane," I state, trying to keep control of myself. He doesn't say a word. He pushes my legs farther apart and glides himself into me slowly. I push my hips up to meet him and breathe in deeply, moaning as I feel him. Bane thrusts in and out slowly, letting me feel every inch. My eyes close and I grip his arms. He places his chest against mine and runs his mask down my neck, just as he was before. I bite his neck and he pumps harder. Wrapping my arms around him, I dig my nails into his back, grinding my hips against his. The knotting in my gut becomes tighter and tighter. I cry out as it intensifies. He pumps even stronger. Releasing, I yell out, sinking my nails into his skin. My muscles pulsate. Without wasting any time, he flips me over and pulls my hips up into the air, putting me on my knees. I push my hips back for him as he grips them and pulls me apart, thrusting into me. He wraps one hand up in my air, jerking my upper body backwards. I arch my back, gripping the sheets in my fists. He thrusts hard and quick, I feel myself draw near again. I gasp for breaths as the knotting returns to my already sensitive muscles.

"Bane," I moan. He grunts and replaces his hands on my hips, sinking his fingers into my skin. His thrusting becomes quicker. I yell out again and he stills for a moment, exhaling loudly. I can feel him pulsating with me, his warmth spreading out inside. He pumps a few more times, slower, wiggling himself in deeper. Bane pulls out and lays down on the bed, breathing heavily. I crawl over to him and collapse beside him. He looks over in my direction briefly and pulls me onto his sweaty chest, running a hand through my hair, I smile against his chest.

**XXXXX**

Around noon, I wake up, only to find that Bane isn't there. I drag myself out of bed and pull on a few random clothes, my lower body a little stiff from our actions earlier in the morning. Clattering from the kitchen echoes around the concrete walls of the basement. In the kitchen, Bane is sitting at the table, hunched over it.

"Good morning," I mumble, collapsing onto a chair across from him. Fontaine is shuffling pans around, trying to piece together some form of a meal.

"Mornin'," Fontaine growls, back over his loud slam of a cabinet door. His face is a flustered red color. I narrow my eyes at him and shift, throwing a look at Bane. He squints his eyes and gives me a short nod. Fontaine slams another door and I know something's not right. He grunts loudly and my curiously snaps.

"OKAY!" I shout. "What's wrong?"

"Sorry… what?" Fontaine asks. I roll my eyes.

"You heard me." I fold my arms over my chest and give him my best poker face.

"Oh, please, if you really have to ask, it's not worth explaining."

"Whatever," I mutter, shifting back in my chair. "Do you know anything about this?" I ask, looking at Bane. He shrugs with an amused expression on his face.

"I think Fontaine is upset about our relationship," Bane states. I feel my eyes almost bulge out of my head.

"What?" Fontaine grows extremely still behind me. Bane's eyes churn with some unknown dark energy, watching Fontaine. Never would I have guessed that Fontaine had feelings for me. He was always like a brother and a friend to me.

"Tell her," Bane orders coolly. He folds his arms across his chest too.

"Well – " Fontaine starts. We're cut off as Gerard walks into the kitchen. His eyes dart between the three of us. With a defeated sigh, he exhales and slowly backs up, his hands in a surrender. "I just think it's too much – you know?"

"What's too much?" I ask, still not understanding.

"No one has ever dated a member as a Master. And you're new. You're still emotionally compromised too."

"Emotionally compromised?" I repeat, as if I've never heard the word before.

"Yes!" he shouts, flustered.

"It was my father's idea for me to see Bane, Fontaine." Bane sort of perks up at this statement. He leans into the table and I disregard him.

"Ah," he breathes, a look of defeat on his face, his eyebrows threaded together.

"He said he liked the idea of our power and brains together, that it made sense because of how well we would function together."

"He said that?" he asks, quietly.

"Yes – well – something like that." Fontaine hands his head. I can feel Bane's smugness encompass the room. Fontaine nods once, his eyes still on the floor.

"If that was his wish – I will obey it," he says after a long moment. He raises his head, staring blankly at the both of us. "I suppose you can make your own breakfast, right?" He sets a pan down and silently flits out of the room.

"You know there was more to that, right?" Bane tells me, filling the space before the stove.

"I suppose," I yawn. I've got enough emotional baggage at the moment. I don't need Fontaine to pile himself on top of it.

"Don't be so naïve."

"Excuse me?" I bark, turning to look at him.

"You know he has romantic feelings for you. What do you intend to do about that?"

"Nothing." He scoffs.

"Nothing?"

"Yes, nothing!"

"How do you know it won't sway him to go against you?"

"Because I know Fontaine."

"Obviously not well enough." I sigh and stand up. It's too early to argue.

"I'm not arguing about this." I carry myself downstairs and perch on my bed in the basement, having feelings of intense hatred for each man in the townhouse. I sulk around the basement in circles and eyeball a baseball cap on a coat rack in the corner. A wild impulse zaps through me. I yank on an extra pair of heavier clothes and slip the baseball cap on low over my eyes. I bolt up the steps and sneak into the living room, checking for signs of anyone. When the coast seems to be clear, I flit out of the house and into the street. Outside, the cold air fills my lungs, making it hard to breathe. My hands fumble, pulling the bill down even lower on my face.

I find myself walking towards the hotel Blake stayed at, even though I know that's not where he really lives. The hotel seems busier and liver since everything went back to normal. It's a strange sight. Tucking my hands into my pockets I walk along the sidewalk, glancing up every once in a while. It feels nice to be freed from the townhouse and the men. At the edge of the frozen river I spot police cars lined up along a large white tent, sat in the spot where we burned my father. I swallow hard and walk along the railing of the dock, walking towards a gathering of officers, civilians, and news reporters. As I walk closer, I make out a podium set up in front of the crowd. I steady myself as all brain function seems to shut down the minute I see who is standing behind the podium – Blake.


End file.
